


To Safeguard the Future

by sian1359



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beware of Ancients bearing gifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Safeguard the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2007 Sheppard H/C Holiday Fic Exchange. Recipient -- LadyRa. Takes place during Season Three between _The Ark_ and _Sunday_. Most of the military stuff was gakked from globalsecurity.org. Most of the OCs are stolen from other fandoms. Now with interior and cover art from pixiequeen10thk in the 2009 SGA Art Santa exchange: http://community.livejournal.com/sga_art_santa/37885.html

The shower was running when Rodney used his command staff override and slipped into John Sheppard's quarters. According to Zelenka, while the puddle jumper repairs had been successful, John's uniform was probably beyond saving. As was some of John's hair, although Carson had said he'd taken care of that too. It wasn't that Rodney didn't trust Carson's word that John was just fine despite the tiny, little explosion that had occurred, but he needed to see so for himself.

_Need something else too_, Rodney thought with a grin as he began removing his clothing.

Waving the door to the bathroom open, Rodney was hit in the face with billows of steam and an odd odor that wasn't altogether unpleasant, but was still unexpected where the steam was not. John could have been a girl for how hot he liked his showers.

No longer completely sure that he wanted to join John if that odor was coming from within the opaqued shower, Rodney glanced around until his eyes caught on the sodden, foam-encrusted mess of clothing piled haphazardly in a corner. Yeah, a total loss, bubbling with foam of neon orange that smelled somewhat citrusy and looked to not only be dissolving bits of the black fabric, but also permanently staining the floor under John's yet-another-that-would-need-replacing uniform.

Rodney certainly hoped the foam wasn't doing that to John's skin…

Fortunately John looked normal when Rodney slid back the shower door, if a little bedraggled and more Air Force standard although his hair hadn't been trimmed to a buzz-cut by any means. No orange stains Rodney could see anywhere, just the perfect blend of sun-darkened and pale skin covered with enough body hair that the rivulets of water made interesting patterns that Rodney wanted to follow with his tongue. Especially over the beginnings of a rounded belly amidst the otherwise flat planes and tone muscles of a career soldier who'd live long enough to reach forty. Rodney's own scientist-soft body, (where the muscle fitness was the exception instead of the rule), was still so much more toned than when he'd first come to the Pegasus Galaxy, and so he no longer felt quite as inadequate when they stood like this together.

Or maybe he had finally gotten used to seeing the appreciation in John's eyes regardless of what Rodney's naked body looked like. Maybe Rodney was beginning to believe that John meant it.

Today's appreciation was matched by a welcoming smile and a hug that was not even grudgingly offered. Rodney only managed to keep quiet his squawk of displeasure over just how cold the water was despite the steam, by burying his mouth and tongue against the expanse of shoulder and neck that didn't look quite as scrubbed raw as the other. The other could be burned instead of scoured he supposed, although no worse than what John normally got from a few unprotected hours in the sun.

Rodney licked and sucked at the cool trails of water for a few moments of indulgence before straightening to receive a heated kiss that almost stole his ability to stand. He then straightened further and took a step back so he could see with his own eyes the reassurance that Carson had given him.

Beyond the reddened skin (from the bottom of John's left ear and jaw in a swatch down his neck to reach just into the dip of John's collar bone), there was the inch or so patch of newly exposed flesh from where his hair had been burned away, along with the trim of the rest of John's hair to make the actual loss appear less noticeable. No other visuals to indicate an injury -- certainly no suggestion on John's face that the burn even stung, much less was causing John any pain.

Rodney had his own experiences to know that the Ancients had exceptional technology and safeguards when it came to fire suppression, and of course the very best of their systems would be installed in the puddle jumpers. Unfortunately it also didn't take much to imagine the result if John's face had been turned even a half inch closer toward the panel that had exploded, or if the fire suppression system had taken even a handful of seconds longer to engage. More lost hair certainly -- possibly even John's eye could have been damaged and --

"Hey, Rodney, I'm okay," John broke the silence that had moved from welcome and heat to worry and ice. "I'm fine, it's not even a mild sunburn equivalent and the redness will likely be gone within a couple of hours. Carson didn't even give me a topical crème."

Along with the reassuring words and tone, and the expression of understanding on John's face, the water began to warm even as Rodney found himself being engulfed into a full body embrace.

Rodney knew he was being foolish. John had certainly been injured often enough (and too often truly severely), for Rodney to be coming apart over something so minor and innocuous as an accident that wouldn't have even raised an eyebrow had it occurred in Rodney's own lab. It was just that eleven days ago, John's spectacular (and even more spectacularly stupid) crash and burn reentry of a derelict alien shuttle, still had the team standing down for a couple more days while John finished recovering from the whiplash and spinal stress he'd sustained.

Rodney had already been so fucking angry because the aliens' stupid, stupid plan to save themselves from the Wraith had endangered the team in general and then both Jamus and Herick had, frankly, gone insane and directly threatened John and Teyla's lives. Only for John to then _volunteer_ to sacrifice himself by riding the shuttle down in an attempt to save Teyla and the rest entrapped within the aliens' wraith-like scoopy beam. Of course John had crashed, and then been all 'Vany landing you could walk away from', and '_their cockpit has a lot more safety features than my Pave Lows or a Little Birds of the past_. Rodney hadn't been able to even be near John for the first two days of John's convalescence (after he'd assured himself John would make a full recovery), and he hadn't talked to John outside of mandatory meetings and Atlantis business for three more days.

No doubt Kate Heightmeyer would say he was transferring his worry of that time to now, as he no longer had the shield of anger to protect himself. She was probably even right, but maybe it didn't matter, since John was there to hold him and hold him up, with nary a hint of condescension in response to Rodney's temporary resemblance to a thirteen year old girl.

Just as his sudden aggression in making claim of John's mouth again was undoubtedly a further knee-jerk reaction to his adolescent angst.

Fortunately John was almost always up for Rodney's aggression, although this didn't appear to be one of the times he was going to match Rodney push-for-shove and bite-to-bite. He opened to Rodney's tongue and teeth, his breath hitching and then expelling in a groan of pleasure and encouragement. Rodney was always careful not to leave marks on John's skin, at least none that might contradict being from a more acceptable partner.

Elizabeth knew of their relationship, of course, as neither of them would have so suborned her authority by hiding something of this magnitude from her that was against the rules. Carson knew too, from being the primary doctor for both of them and not just from recognizing the signs, but also because he was the one person both of them were comfortable to go to upon the occasion when necessary supplies ran out before the next _Daedalus_ run between the Milky Way and Pegasus Galaxies.

Teyla and Ronon probably knew, from being their teammates as well as being aliens and having to have had the cultural conditioning and hang-ups against same sex pairings explained to them when it had come up about different people. Rodney was pretty sure Zelenka knew too, and possibly John's own second, but considering all of the other things those two did to cover and protect Rodney and John from the all too prying eyes of Caldwell or the IOA oversight committee, Rodney found his worry of discovery no longer outmatched the contentment and importance he'd placed in his relationship with John.

Priding himself on his honesty, Rodney couldn't discount how much he _enjoyed_ having regular (and great) sex either. Especially not when John turned all loose limb and pliant and was now practically begging Rodney to fuck him.

For all the difficulties and downright trouble a life dedicated to studying the Ancients and their technology seemed to engender, sometimes Rodney just loved the Ancients -- or at least the technology and creature comforts they'd afforded for themselves here in Atlantis. Showers that responded to thought in water temperature, water pressure or even the direction of the spray, put any other bathing facility to shame -- including any of those high-end spas the best of Earth's hotels and resorts tried to offer. Having the architecture actually arrange itself on the user's whim (if they possessed the ATA gene, of course), whether it be a suddenly protruding slab or a convenient appearing ledge to hold shampoo or soap or other whatnots was also a great boon. As was the ease in which towels or a robe could be heated for when you were done.

The best of these amazing perks had to be the hidden storage areas, however. At least for the ability to have spontaneous anal sex in the shower.

With a thought and just a bit of a reach, Rodney removed some lube and a condom from one of those little storage spots. Just another thought nudge and he could then set them in a handy, lower cubbyhole even as John had positioned himself against the wall with his legs outspread and his body leaning forward, braced from wrist to elbow. Between the two of them, they shut off the water other than an overhead and ankle-height mist that kept the cubicle from getting too cold, and one spray that still pounded down against the muscles bunched between John's neck and shoulders as he bowed his head. Rodney had a moment's concern that this was indicative of John still feeling achy despite his constant reassurance that he was ready to resume full duty (including a resumption of off-world missions). Before Rodney could ask, however, the spray gentled into a fall of rain that designers (and home owners) spent thousands of dollars trying to emulate through their plumbing back on Earth.

Rodney mouthed his approval of the change against the long muscles of John's back. He tongued along the defined trail of vertebrae while beginning a massage of the oh-so-fine curves of John's ass. Neither of them needed much in the way of foreplay to get hard, but it was rare that they had the luxury of really taking their time. While Rodney still felt a modicum of aggression, he was no longer in any particular hurry to rush to their orgasms.

Nor was it as if the water was going to get cold, at least not unless one of them willed it.

Rodney's drop to his knees wasn't particularly graceful, but even John's knees creaked now and then. It wasn't like Rodney going to be critiqued for how he got there, especially not when what he had planned was obvious from his being there. Not even Teyla could contort and hold herself in position long enough to give a _blow job_ from behind. This intellectual knowledge didn't stop Rodney from taking a moment to picture just such a possibility as he tried to get comfortable.

The sheer beauty of what Teyla might look like in his place momentarily overcame Rodney's jealousy when imagining (or facing) the idea of John being with anyone else.

John wasn't happy with Rodney's hesitation, at least not if the start of a growl from deep in John's throat was any indication. Or from the hint in the way John was wiggling his ass. Of course, the two quick slaps Rodney started with didn't exactly discourage John. He had a moment's regret that it was his hand that generally started hurting well before John's ass did; one of these days they were going to have to go ahead and bring some of the _toys_ they kept in Rodney's quarters to augment their hidden shower supplies.

When Rodney bent even further down to first lick and then bite at the soft skin behind John's knee, John's growl became much more than a hint, and Rodney was forced to plant a steadying hand around John's thigh to keep John from twisting away. He would have loved to spend time nibbling on John's hamstrings too. John wasn't exactly ticklish in either location, but he was certainly sensitive at each, and once Rodney had managed to get John to come just from giving John an intense and comprehensive foot massage.

But the hamstrings were out of reach in the shower for Rodney; he couldn't have managed such a feat of bending even when he'd been young and actually flexible. Nor did he want to take any chance with John losing his balance from the inherent slickness of their location (despite the floor beneath Rodney's knees having softened to a rubber-like consistency when he'd knelt down). Just the fact that he was going to get John off by rimming would be precarious enough to John's stability.

"For fuck's sake, Rodney!"

Rodney smiled into John's other knee and worried the flesh there just long enough for John to begin squirming in earnest. John finally relaxed against his hold when Rodney lifted his head, but Rodney wasn't quite done playing yet. Not when there was so much more to nibble and taste and thus being able to reduce John to barely coherent curses. And so it was only his thumb that began rubbing the circles and pushing inward against the hidden flesh, not his tongue.

Once the thumb stroking and sharp little nips he was scattering all over John's ass cheeks destroyed John's ability to articulate anything intelligible but a moan of Rodney's name, Rodney took a deep breath and buried his face in John's crease, splaying his tongue flat for the first few swipes and then curling it into a point once John relaxed enough to accept being breached.

Rodney was still amazed that John had (and still) readily offered and yielded to him when they had sex. It had been even more surprising and a bit humbling upon discovering that John really hadn't had much anal experience -- at least from the receiving end previously. But there had been no hesitation on John's part, and Rodney was determined to make sure John never regretted his generosity. (That John had also been the one to first experiment with rimming was either a further testament to John's generosity, or a testament to the women John had dated, who had obviously been a lot more adventurous than Rodney's few previous female liaisons.)

Rodney's past experiences with _gay_ sex had been more extensive, yet his habit of bottoming had been more out of desperation than preference. It was generally a lot easier to find a partner if you were the one willing to bend over. Yet with John, Rodney had finally been able to discover that friendship and trust made such an intimacy much more than a simple _quid pro quo_ \-- or just what you had to do to get an orgasm from someone else's hand.

So far he and John hadn't found the limit to either of their curiosities or boundaries, although Rodney knew that that openness had as much to do with the outside limitations placed on how often they could even get together, as it did with any willingness to try almost anything once. There was also the matter of both of them having already discovered favorite ways in getting the other off that they kept falling back to instead of trying something new…

Rodney knew he could make John come with just his mouth. But he wasn't trying to prove anything in this instance, at least not to anyone other than himself, and so he had no reason to curtail his tricks. Maintaining a one-handed grip on John's thigh to keep both of them steady, he brought his other fingers up to drag along the other folds and creases of skin that he knew were also growing sensitive.

John was a touch slut, surprising on the one hand given how infrequently he let anyone near enough to even manage something like a hug. But, on the other hand, maybe that was also exactly why John could so easily be undone by Rodney's hands. Almost anywhere Rodney trailed his fingers, he could trigger an erogenous zone and induce a flush of endorphins that would have John panting and writhing in mere moments.

Along with making the most interesting gasps and stutters and groans, when Rodney finally stopped neglecting John's cock. Noises that should otherwise be embarrassing, but Rodney was actually more vocal when he was on the receiving end, and so could never use the ammunition he was frequently gifted with.

Rodney's own cock was aching, leaking and bobbing in time with his tongue and finger movements. He'd proven many a time that _he_ could come just from his attentions to John, but that wasn't really what Rodney was wanting for this time. He redoubled his efforts, probing deeper, jacking firmer, _fasterharder_ \--

John came with a shout, his body jerking and shuddering just one step down from convulsions. Before he collapsed -- or regained control -- Rodney surged to his feet and used his greater body mass to push John more firmly against the slick tile wall and keep John upright. At this point Rodney probably didn't need to use the lube, but it was habit and an expression of caring. And regardless of any of that, fingering a partner who enjoyed it never got old. Not when a flick of his nail against John's prostrate had John weakly shooting and spasming again.

They didn't really need to use condoms either, not when every after-mission medical included checks for any viruses, bacteria or foreign bodies that might have been picked up from a strange planet (or population). Additionally, it wasn't as if Rodney was having sex with anyone other than John to have caught something and, he knew, it was the same for John -- even if they hadn't talked about exclusivity or monogamy. Using a condom was just courtesy again -- and maybe a bit of preventative caution. Because if any species had ever decided it would be useful to have a male get pregnant, it would be the Ancients, who had probably been the ones to so engineer the sea horses. And of course the Ancients would have then fashioned some piece of technology to enable this in humans, and then just leave it abandoned without any sort of warning or notes for someone like John (or Rodney) to come along and accidentally activate.

Just like a fucking ascension machine.

Rodney shoved in with enough force and speed to reach full depth in time to prolong John's orgasm for a few seconds more. Long enough to nearly force Rodney to give into his own without even needing to thrust, but John suddenly stayed clenched, effectively trapping Rodney's cock and putting pressure around the base as if he'd used his fingers to stave Rodney off.

Then, instead of having the consideration to be relaxing into a puddle of goo (as Rodney would have been under the same previous circumstances), John had found (created) indentations in the tiled wall for handholds to better brace himself against, so that he could be the one doing the thrusting. Leaving Rodney with little choice other than to simply hang on, until he recovered enough to take control again.

This wasn't the same frantic desperate fucking that was all adrenalin-fueled and relief from having survived yet another certain brush with death (such as had led them to start their relationship in the first place). It was more something that was both playful, and a skillful battle for dominance, despite John's supposed vulnerability from his accumulated injuries -- and having already gotten off once.

It was also something that allowed Rodney the opportunity to prolong his own enjoyment while ratcheting _all_ of his nerves into a frenzy, instead of just focusing on and giving in to the inevitable. He had enough wherewithal to realize that if he wasn't careful he was going to be leaving telltale bruises against John's hips, yet John seemed to be encouraging them. Or at least John seemed to be encouraging Rodney not to worry about anything other than his own pleasure.

So lost within the fight for dominance -- and for his own self-control -- the gradual increase of pressure from the water still falling over them went unnoticed until it was pounding against Rodney's back nearly as hard as he was pounding into John. Rodney let loose a full fledge scream when, for an instant, the water turned to a stream of icy needles not only against his back, but abruptly shooting upward from a hidden nozzle in the floor. Before he could catch his breath (or his scattering thoughts), however, the temperature of the water then turned blood-warm, and the stream became a jet suddenly pulsing along his inner thighs and against his balls and that was all she wrote. Rodney screamed again as thought and vision whited out, as his body and nerves turned themselves inside out in an incandescent burst f energy and release somewhat akin to a star going nova.

*******

It never stopped amusing John that, despite how inspiring their sex and orgasms had been, Rodney almost always found something to talk about afterward instead of wanting to just curl up and take a nap for a few minutes. Today was no exception, even with the sex having been steps beyond their normal fantastic. Or their good luck in that neither of them had broken anything in the aftermath of Rodney's orgasm and abrupt collapse against John's own unsteady body. Fortunately John had managed to direct them into a nearly coordinated sprawl onto the shower floor before he allowed his own brain to shut off for a few dizzy and dizzying moments.

Of course, it wasn't as if John hadn't also trained himself to get moving after sex since so much of his in the past had been anonymous or only a few stolen moments with a buddy in the midst of a warzone. While neither that nor the fact that he preferred his sex partners to be male had been the cause of his divorce, no doubt both had been contributing factors even if Nancy had never found out about his bi-sexuality. It was enough that his restlessness after sex was, in her mind, just another facet of his inability to be close to someone and express his feelings -- as if you couldn't offer the first if you couldn't manage the second.

None of that meant that John wouldn't have loved the opportunity to drowse away the rest of the afternoon with Rodney; he was tired and content enough to probably even fall asleep. Both of them, however, were on call. Rodney was expected (and expecting) to go back to the lab, just as John had already made plans to spend some time with his men and do a little bonding through a cutthroat game of basketball. Not that he'd said anything to Rodney (or Carson) about the nature of today's bonding exercise, of course. As far as John was concerned, however, limited duty meant no off-world trips or strenuous PT -- like going one-on-one against Ronon. For the most part, simple muscle aches grew worse from immobility in his experience anyway, not from stretching them out. But he doubted Carson -- or Rodney -- would agree.

"So, have you checked your email messages in the last couple of hours?" Rodney suddenly moved from just basic rambling (that John generally only listened to with half an ear) to a real attempt to engage him into a conversation.

The act of pulling on his t-shirt delayed his answer, and Rodney's subsequent look of anticipation did not bode well. "Not since Zelenka commed and asked if I could assist him in the jumper bay," John admitted. "What have I missed?"

Rodney's expression contained a quick flash of something that John would almost categorize as demented glee. "Elizabeth has finalized the Holiday Celebration Schedule, including the various event coordinators."

From the wide, wide grin now stretched across Rodney's still slightly red and swollen lips, John figured his name must be on the list, not that Elizabeth had picked any of his celebratory idea of what were essentially summer camp competitions.

During their first year on Atlantis, they hadn't had the time or resources to do much more than acknowledge things like birthdays and the various national holidays that the expedition members had previously spent their lifetimes commemorating;. Instead, most of their early celebrations were more of the fomenting allies events, or of the '_wow, we're still alive_' variety.

After successfully reestablishing contact with Earth, Elizabeth had taken to including requests for traditional decorations and foodstuffs with their normal resupply so that now they had cake and ice cream each month for the relevant birthdays. Significant religious ceremonies were encouraged again too, yet only as individual observations, since amongst their members they held beliefs in pretty much all of the Earth's faiths. Neither those or the various independence days representing recognized sovereignties were city-wide, full-stand down events.

That was reserved for the expedition's own form of Thanksgiving -- on the anniversary of their very first party which coincided with the day they'd formalized their partnership with the Athosians -- and their own Remembrance Day for their fallen. And for the series of holidays that surrounded Christmas.

Oh, Elizabeth didn't call it Christmas, of course, because she didn't want those who celebrated Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice or whatever else to feel excluded. Pretty much everyone else did, however, even those who hadn't celebrated anything previously. So did most of the Athosians because John and Rodney had gotten to them before Elizabeth. _Everyone_ was willing to support gift giving, eating too much and even setting time aside for trading no longer needed/wanted possessions and swapping exchanged gifts just like the day after madness in Earth's shopping malls. Frankly, nobody other than Elizabeth seemed to care what it was called.

This year, in addition to approving a couple of the games the Sociologists had come up with from combing Satedan and Athosian sport elements with both soccer and real football (so that they had something like bowl games to watch or participate in), Elizabeth had thrown opened the celebration to new suggestions and expected to expand their holiday from three days to six.

If Elizabeth had published the schedule, obviously she, Teyla and Caldwell had decided on the new traditions to be added without requiring John's input. He supposed he could be annoyed about that, but since the _Daedalus_ was also participating, Caldwell's inclusion made sense and John would have been a fourth instead of a tie-breaker. It wasn't as if they had too much time to waste on the decision making anyway; it was all due to start with the _Daedalus_' arrival in a couple more days.

"So I'm guessing based on your unholy glee, that in additional to not getting the _reindeer games_, I don't get to captain one of the roostball teams?"

If possible, Rodney's smile got even wider as he shook his head. "I'm sure it's because of you injury and not just because of Elizabeth's perennial quest to make everyone feel equal as well as happy. Although the latter would explain why she decided to add an element of 'Boss for a Day'," Rodney paused to look thoughtful. "The senior staff is swapping management duties with the minions, so Sergeants Stackhouse and Dr. Novak have the privilege of organizing the roostball games. Maybe if you're lucky," Rodney then positively beamed, "one of them will still pick you for their team. After they've claimed all the burly Marines and Athosians, of course."

John knew his involuntary scowl was just feeding Rodney's sense of hilarity. Nor was it really proper, since it wasn't like Rodney was all that wrong. John had proven to be a more enthusiastic than skilled roostball player. But, damn, it was fun to play anyway. Especially when he'd taken it upon himself to make sure the Athosian kids got taught too.

Rodney tugged John down next to him on the bed. "I'm sure you'll still be tapped to fly the participants and spectators out to the mainland," he offered along with pressing a sloppy kiss in the generally vicinity of John's jaw before bending over to pick up his own boots. No doubt to hide the grin that still split his face.

"Rodney." There had to be more than John just not being made captain of one of the teams that was fueling Rodney's on-going merriment.

"In her infinite wisdom, Elizabeth has decided to add the Santa's village for the Athosian children, with Caldwell playing Santa's Head Elf to Katie's Mrs. Claus. There is also going to be a music recital. Carson's been drafted into the tenor section of the new Atlantis Glee Club under the direction of Caldwell's navigator. And there's going to be a morality play," Rodney added, practically giddy with amusement. "An Athosian one, and Elizabeth cast herself as one of the leads, with _Jinto_ as director."

All of which sounded pretty high on the embarrassment factor and, therefore, pretty entertaining, although John thought he'd probably skip the choral recital because some things would just be _too_ painful. Except then the penny dropped. If Elizabeth was willing to put herself to that level of humiliation -- never mind what John had already learned about the others (and god, he had to make sure he had a camera for Caldwell's debut) -- what in hell had she set _him_ up for?

"Rodney?"

Rodney's newest look showed he knew exactly what conclusion John had reached. So, of course, he answered _around_ John's question.

"Fortunately Elizabeth was smart enough to know not to include Teyla with the feast preparation -- or maybe it's more that she knew to put in a ringer for the concert. Teyla will be the featured soloist, which is cheating nonetheless, and now we'll _have_ to go since she's our teammate, and be subjected to all the other caterwauling." For an instant the side of Rodney's mouth dropped into frown.

"Speaking of the traditional feast, Cadman and Chuck are working in the kitchen under a couple of your sergeants," Rodney finally continued as he let his expression turn into a full-fledged scowl. "With _Parrish_ being in charge of the menu, so Kepler only knows if there will even be meat!"

"Parrish isn't really a vegan," John defended the expedition's head botanist without thinking. "He only plays on one off-world missions." Finished with his own boots, he let Rodney pull him to his feet despite Rodney's look of disgust at John's information -- or maybe he was just pissed off about Parrish' subterfuge. Parrish hadn't been the only one to play the vegan card while off-world; few of the scientists were good at pretending they liked the various meals of mystery meat, insects and grubs, nor did they have the same level of experience in stomaching anything as had most of the Marines after years of overseas deployments. Rodney hadn't tried it himself, given his citrus allergies and the increased likelihood of succumbing to anaphylaxis or having to go hungry if he restricted himself to just eating nuts and berries.

"At least Katie's promised to leak the menu to me in advance, just in case we'll need to eat before we go to the dinner." Rodney gave John a quick kiss as they steadied themselves, then turned and started for the door.

"Rodney!"

Rodney stopped and turned, his smile this time somewhat sheepish. "Oh, right, well Elizabeth has me organizing the Secret Santa gift exchange along with Kate Heightmeyer. I was thinking a white elephant exchange at first, but that would invalidate the beauty and horror that is Swap Day. Regardless of the division of tasks, I'm sure that Kate's going to tell people to come to me to ask if they can switch names once they get their draws, so..." He let his grin turn a little nasty. "I've already agreed to let her handle the gift distribution and I'll handle the upfront end."

There were times John simply loved Rodney's mind. Since this looked like something that wouldn't backfire against either of them, John let his own expression turn a little conspiratorial to encourage Rodney's evil genius.

"Everyone is going to get a questionnaire that will collect personal information and offer suggestions since not everyone knows everyone else anymore. The program I've already designed uses that, plus some further cognizant observations and turns it all into compatibility profiles. Once they see it's the same for everyone, they'll blame Kate for abusing her insider's knowledge and she'll have to field many more disgruntled customers than I ever will. And don't worry, I'll make sure you and I are _not_ paired up for this."

"You just want to make sure you get two presents," John growled, because it wasn't really as if their relationship as all that big a secret, probably not even from the IOA or certain officers in the Big Air Force. Elizabeth had already made her point of John's necessity in being here when she'd gotten him reassigned from Antarctica in the first place, and then when she'd insisted he be promoted and remain as Atlantis' military commander after they'd been able to reestablish contact with Earth. Nowadays he and Rodney figured the worst that could happen would be that John would be forced to resign his commission and then accept a position as a consultant or even as one of the science minions. As long as he got to stay here with Rodney and the City, John didn't really care about the rest; he'd already gotten his twenty years in and unless they dishonorably discharged him...

"I always knew you were smarter than you look," Rodney gave him another sloppy, smiling kiss. "So I'll see you for dinner?"

The force of the grip in which he pulled Rodney back tight against him was only partially due to Rodney's attempt to skip out without telling the juiciest bit yet one more time. For a long moment, however, they both forgot about paybacks and Secret Santas, and instead dwelt on the only gift either of them really wanted -- each other.

"You're probably going to have to assist Ronon and Halling and Hermiod with finding something appropriate to wear," Rodney finally said as he pulled away with a crooked grin and waved the door open. "The final new tradition is having one of the nurses run a bachelor 'n 'ette auction. You four, along with Lorne, Kavanaugh, Zelenka and Chuck will be up for sale, as will Biro, Carson's new girl Keller, Simpson and Miko, as escorts to the Non-Christmas slash New Year's Formal Dance. Hope your Dress Blues are back from the dry cleaner!"

"_Rodney_!"

********

When the unscheduled activation alarm sounded, neither John nor Lorne immediately turned to go running out to the Control room; three teams were off-world, but this call wasn't coming so early as to automatically assume the worse. Now, too, with enough soldiers on hand from the SGC to actually have something resembling a real Marine battalion, plus the extensive protocols in place to expressly handle all variations of a team's return, neither of them _had_ to scramble in response at every instance. (If for no other reason than to not micromanage and undermine the authority of the Officer of the Day responsible for overseeing base security.)

This was not to say that the two of them, like the rest of the first-year Marines present in the gym, didn't pause for just a second in an almost Pavlovian response to the signal. But while that allowed Captain Celluci to steal the basketball from Gunny Winchester's hand, John managed to block the subsequent pass to Lorne and regain possession of the ball for his team. Only to then earn himself an elbow to the face when Lorne and Doctor Fitzroy double-teamed him to block his lay-up. Fitzroy looked properly contrite when he and Lorne hauled John back up from the floor, but Stacks hadn't called the obvious foul --

Because even as their only ref, the Sergeant had kept his earwig in and was obviously receiving critical information from the OOD.

Out of the corner of his now throbbing eye, John saw Lorne signal to the sidelines. He allowed the quick inspection by the corpsman to test his tracking ability, and then accepted the towel which he used to vigorously scrub at the back of his neck and across his face. No blood stained the sweat and, since he was still nominally on light duty, John was prepared to take a break and leave the call to Stackhouse and Lorne since nothing was coming over the city-wide to raise the threat level and signal the need for his involvement.

So, of course, Stacks handing Lorne the radio was only so Lorne could then hand it over to John.

Lieutenant Follet might have been new to Atlantis (and the SGC), but he'd worked as a member of the Air Force Office of Special Investigations, with his last duty station being Iraq, and so wasn't one to get overly excited during his turn at overseeing gate duty. That his voice now was a little rushed, a little raised as he explained the situation, in turn raised the hair on the back of John's neck.

John pitched his own voice lower and slower in response, a trick Rodney often complained about, but hadn't actually seemed to realize usually worked -- even on Rodney. "Will Cooper let anyone else take the box from her?"

John would find out later who authorized the team to even return to Atlantis. It wouldn't have been Rodney, no matter how much he might have wanted to investigate the tech that was being carried, he would never have approved something that had had Athar's name being invoked in it's claiming. Rodney still hadn't forgiven John for Chaya despite there having been nothing more than a kiss (and the Ancient glowy sharing thing) exchanged between them. And despite the fact that he and Rodney hadn't been anything more than becoming friends at that point in their acquaintance.

"_No, sir, Captain Harkness reports he and Doctor Sato both tried to take it before their return, and Doctor Weir authorized a couple of the SFs to see what they could do once they disarmed her. Cooper isn't becoming violent or anything, just stubborn. And evasive when it comes to someone reaching for the box. _"

Grateful for the small favor of not having the compromised person still well-armed, John nodded to himself at the rest. Lieutenant Cooper was on loan to the SGC from the Royal Air Force, tapped for Atlantis because she'd stumbled across an altercation between a Goa'uld and a NID agent and wouldn't give up pursuing the weirdness of what she'd seen even when she'd been warned off. Stubborn was certainly one word for her.

John had known a few guys like her in the Big Air Force; pilots who'd sworn they'd seen a UFO and couldn't be persuaded otherwise, even with a threat of a Section 8 hearing. Of course, knowing what he did now, John had to wonder how many of them actually _had_ seen something alien and had, therefore, been persecuted wrongly. He didn't like to think about the fact that he was one of the ones currently enabling the governments of the world to continue to hide the truth from the populace.

"I don't suppose she can just set it down and back away?"

John heard Follet call out the suggestion even though he has no doubt Harkness wouldn't have already tried that too. Harkness was also new to Atlantis, having come over on the _Daedelus_ a few of trips back after having lost his gate team's XO in a confrontation with a piece of Goa'uld tech they'd wanted to use agains the Ori. The SGC had felt a change of venue would be good for the survivors of Harkness' team, and John hadn't been about to turn down experienced personnel even if Rodney had tried to get Doctor Sato banned for being one of Daniel Jackson's protégés.

"_No go, sir. And she's getting a bit agitated the longer we keep her from you. _"

"Okay, let her through then. Keep an escort on her and make sure they're all gene-free." John wasn't sure the last precaution was necessary, since Doctor Harper was also on Harkness' team, along with Staff Sergeant Jones. Harper had the gene through Carson's gene therapy. He wasn't very practiced with it, and it didn't seem to have presented very strongly, but being his team's medic, he would have been hands on from the get go once Cooper had started acting strangely. The fact that he'd had no affect one way or the other probably meant other ATA carriers wouldn't -- except for the one the tech was allegedly meant for.

One Lieutenant Colonel (even if Athar's priest had called him Major) Jonathan Jefferson Sheppard.

John was not about to endanger everyone here in the gym. "Rodney, do you have somewhere I can meet her?" he asked, fully confident that Rodney was listening in on their little drama -- along with Elizabeth and Carson -- despite he and Follet being on one of the military frequencies. Senior Staff had access to all of the communications channels and Command Staff had the ability to override.

Normally he would have directed Cooper and her escorts to one of the biolab clean rooms off the infirmary, but he had a feeling that simple bio-hazard protocols might not be enough. If this was indeed a _gift_ from Chaya, then it would be of Ancient design and undoubtedly ATA triggered. When they hadn't found a specific room or lab constructed for the purpose of mitigating the effects of Ancient technology, Rodney had insisted on hazard-proofing several containment chambers to the best of their abilities after the first couple of unfortunate mishaps. As Chief Scientist, Rodney would know which one was currently free from other experiments, and John had no doubt he was already evacuating any nearby that were human occupied.

"_We're clearing out Lab Two now. Carson, get one of your voodoo practitioners down here --_"

"I'll be coming myself --"

"_Are you not listening that this _courtship_ gift is something most likely gene-activated, and so you are the _last _person we need standing nearby, Mr. _ I-Told-You-I-Was-The-Wrong-Person? _When we want drones or nanovirues running amuck, we'll call --_"

"Rodney!" John understood that Rodney's anger was hiding Rodney's concern, in part because by his own reasoning, Rodney shouldn't be there either. Not that John expected for a minute that Rodney wouldn't at least be up in the observation booth by the time everyone else arrived. But Carson didn't need to be reminded of his general lack of control when it came to Ancient tech, just as John wasn't about to let Rodney start in again on the events with Chaya and Proculus.

Fortunately Rodney was just as conversant in John's tones and inflections as John was in the reverse, and shut up. At least for the moment.

John didn't realize he'd moved from rubbing at that spot between his eyebrows to stave off an incipient headache until his fingers touched the newly tender spot between his temple and cheekbone that was beginning to swell from the hit from Fitzroy's elbow. Or maybe the tenderness was because this was the same spot singed by the earlier accident in the puddle jumper.

"Sir?" The corpsman pulled John's hand away and offered a towel and ice; gym accidents weren't all that uncommon even when the Marines weren't fighting Ronon, so the cooler held more than water for hydration.

John waved the corpsman away from doing anything else (although he kept the ice) -- and waved for Lorne to follow him. "We'll have to reschedule to finish the game," he offered to the others before leaving the court and heading toward the exit. It was a testament to the nature of _shit happens_ all too often in the Pegasus Galaxy that not even the scientists sitting in the peanut gallery and playing at being spectators began whining about being kept out of the loop, but instead started off for the showers, their quarters, their labs or somewhere else to finish their break. It wasn't that John wanted to leave them in the dark, but if he was going to get into an ironic argument with Rodney over needlessly risking his life, John didn't need witnesses. Nor was it as if what little news really existed wouldn't be quickly disseminated through the various chains of command -- or via the gossip mill -- by the time John and Cooper met up anyway.

While he gave Lorne the SITREP, John debated whether he had time to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes, but figured between an agitated Cooper and an even more frantic Rodney, the sooner he took command of the situation the better. It wasn't as if there wouldn't be plenty of guns on hand should the box somehow be a kind of portal, nor would being in uniform offer him any more real protection than his shorts and tanktop. And if his manly stink somehow affected or bothered Chaya's gift, well…

"This is the first contact Atlantis has had with Proculus or its people since the original incident?" Lorne asked as John handed back Sergeant Stackhouse's radio and grabbed up his own from his gym bag.

John nodded, deciding to leave the rest of the bag here as he didn't want anything burdening or slowing him down. "Chaya made it clear there wasn't anything she could offer or even tell us to help us figure the city out, and Elizabeth made it even clearer she thought any return visit would be a waste of time and resources."

John knew Elizabeth's decision had been based as much on Rodney's sense of betrayal (from both him and Chaya), as it was her own disappointment (in both him and Chaya). And once John figured out his attraction to Chaya had been as much because of his ATA gene as his hormones, he hadn't really felt any reason to argue. He could understand and empathize over the loneliness Chaya felt from putting duty before anything else, but even now he still wasn't sure if she'd been afraid of breaking the rules in helping Atlantis because she feared she might be taken from her people -- or just because she feared in further punishment for herself.

"No one's been back and I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've come across any of the inhabitants from Proculus off their home world," John further clarified. They hustled down the hall toward the nearest transporter at something just short of a jog. "At least no one has identified themselves as such before now." And John had to wonder what _that_ meant, to have one of Chaya's people preaching the word of Athar off-world since the only stargate they'd found had been in orbit around the planet. While John certainly wouldn't have pegged Chaya to go darkside on them, the Ori had once been of the same race as the Ancients, and who knew what ten thousand years of exile would do to someone?

"I've always thought the general lack of proselytizing to be one of the best things about Pegasus. Hard to hear about this and not be thinking about the Ori," Lorne pretty much read John's mind.

"While I don't think the Ancients here would do much more than those nominally overseeing the Milky Way have been, should the Ori begin to convert the normal Pegasus natives, I'd like to think the Ancients would at least be a bit put out if Atlantis got destroyed in the crossfire. And Chaya seemed to feel her people had her on a really short leash, so I doubt we're talking Ori here anyway. If the ascended Ancients could trap her on the planet, they could just as easily exile her somewhere else or do something worse."

This wasn't to say the encounter couldn't be just as dangerous in its own way, but Lorne didn't need John telling him that any more than he needed any words of false optimism.

John knew Lorne had read all of the AARs from the first year on Atlantis, that Lorne actually had more (a lot more) experience than John in dealing with alien shit, from Lorne's years as a member of SG11. They'd both agreed experience against fighting the Goa'uld didn't mean much in fighting the Wraith, but just the general exposure to weirdness was a heads up in dealing with living here in Pegasus, and so certainly had value.

Just about everyone but the Brass back at the SGC seemed to forget that even the knowledge that benevolent aliens existed hadn't been John's as little as three years ago. That most of this was new and freaky and while John wouldn't trade his command and life here for anything they could offer back on Earth, he still really appreciated having someone who didn't let much ruffle his calm as backup. In return, while John wasn't normally all that forthcoming about the things that didn't get put in the reports, he'd made an exception with Lorne -- at least when Lorne specifically asked about something. Lorne offered experience as well as an outsider's perspective, and someone had to balance John's occasional blinders to the big picture.

"You'd probably better head up to the Control room," John suggested strongly when they reached the transporter. "McKay's could be right about the presence of too many gene carriers, and I imagine Elizabeth is going to put herself in the observation booth no matter what I say, so a command staff presence back where it started will probably be a good idea."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a team and jumper prepped for a trip to Proculus either, I expect," Lorne was nodding. "How about I pull McKay for that since he's actually been there, and then you don't have to play the bad guy forcing him away from the lab."

John doubted that would work, but appreciated the offer. No matter what happened here, Rodney would assume the worst since it was Chaya, would assume that somehow John was complicit or at least eager to see what his '_Ancient girlfriend_' had sent. John had no doubt that Rodney had already come up with some reason as to why he had to be nearby, just as John also knew that Rodney would indeed be the first on the jumper heading out to Proculus, with drones packed to the gills, if something untoward happened.

Like most things about John's relationship with Rodney, this knowledge was both reassuring and scary as hell.

"If it comes to a trip, keep him disarmed unless it's an emergency," John warned. "He took an immediate dislike to her, and his hounding her after finding out she was an Ancient who refused to answer even one of his questions pretty much made it mutual."

"It's never a good thing when your current girlfriend meets up with your ex," was Lorne's parting shot after John ceded the transporter to him first. "I'll keep those fireworks to a minimum as long as you do the same. Sir."

John had no time to respond to words or the sketchy salute before Lorne whisked himself off to the Control room and the tacit command of keeping everyone and everything from dissolving into chaos.

There wasn't a day that went by that didn't have John thinking about the loss of Ford (or Sumner). Yet he also knew that he and Atlantis would both be very different had Evan Lorne not agreed to become his XO, and he could only feel blessed that Landry hadn't decided to saddle him with a second-in-command that he no doubt deserved -- one like _John_ would have undoubtedly been to Sumner. He wasn't sure what it said that Lorne had actually been _Caldwell_'s pick, but John also figured Lorne was a good enough officer to mold himself into whatever type of second was needed. Lorne had served under Edwards during his stint in SG11 after all, and by all accounts Edwards was even more humorless than Colonel Steven Caldwell.

John's own trip through the transporter got him down to the secured lab level in a blink of an eye. He hadn't beaten Rodney's arrival, of course, but as Zelenka and a couple other minions were also present (setting up shop in the observation booth overlooking the lab from a level up), it wasn't as if he could take advantage of any stolen moments no matter how much he wanted to reassure -- and be reassured. There wasn't any sign of Cooper or her entourage yet, so he wandered over to see what was on tap.

"You reek!" was Rodney's greeting, but John hadn't been expecting anything more. "What in the hell were you doing?"

The words were perfunctory; Rodney hadn't even looked up from his laptop as John crossed the room to stand over Rodney's shoulder. That changed when he got a flash of bare leg in his peripheral vision, but any heat that might have begun to shade his eyes at John's lack of normal clothing changed to concern and outrage when he got a good look at John's face.

"What the fuck?" Rodney started, his hand immediately coming up and reaching out to touch. John intercepted those long fingers with his own and took a step back.

His cheek was already throbbing in time with his heartbeat without Rodney touching anything, no matter how deft or gentle John knew Rodney touch could be.

"It's what I get for charging through the key when they could double-team me," John tried to grin, although that pulled on the tender skin too.

"You were playing football while recovering from whiplash and an explosion this morning?" Rodney fairly screeched.

"Sounds like it was basketball," Dr. Keller corrected as she preceded Cooper's Pied Piper routine.

Without seeing it yet, John knew Cooper's escort would consist not only of her team (maybe minus Harper), but a marine guard of five or more, whose job would be covering all of Harkness' people in case Cooper wasn't really the only one compromised. He had no doubt that Elizabeth would be further back with her own marine escort, who'd only be letting her come forward once John and Cooper contained themselves in the lab

Follet might be new, but he was damn thorough when it came to protection details.

"His question still stands, though, Colonel. You are supposed to be taking it easy," Carson's new trauma surgeon scowled.

"Basketball is taking it easy," John scowled right back in return. "And I'm fine; I just zigged where I should have zagged." He ducked away from Keller's fingers too, though not before considering tossing her the towel that was now more water than ice carrier. The wastebasket next to the desk Rodney had set up on was empty and clean; John dropped it in there instead and tried to ignore the speculative look Keller was giving him. While John was pretty sure she was looking only in the clinical sense, Rodney was bristling anyway and John was starting to feel self-conscious (not to mention cold) from lack of uniform and sweat drying against his exposed skin.

Turning his attention back to Rodney; "is there anything I need to do before I enter the lab?" John did not want to let Cooper even see him, at least not until they were the only two people in proximity. He was pretty sure he needed to get out of here now to meet that requirement, as he was also pretty sure he was beginning to sense _some_thing closing in on him. As most Ancient tech required close proximity instead of outright touch, something that he could sense a hall or room away was not something he wanted to expose any of the others to.

Rodney caught his gaze, his earlier concern so close to giving away to something much more akin to panic, yet John doubted anyone else could actually see the fear either of them was feeling. Nor the other silent exchange they offered one another.

Unfortunately, the only way they could verify that Chaya had really been behind whatever Cooper was carrying, would be to go to Proculus and ask. But John doubted Cooper would be able to handle such a delay -- nor would he ask her to. And if this _wasn't_ from Chaya, if it was instead some sort of trap or bomb, any further delay risk setting it off to do a lot more damage than to just two soldiers willing to perform their duty.

"If you sense anything wonky --"

"Hey, the NCIS dvds are supposed to be for team nights --"

"_Colonel, we're outside of Lab Four right now and awaiting confirmation to proceed_," Harkness' flat American tones interrupted.

"_I really want to proceed, Sir_," Cooper's own Welsh accent was barely recognizable as her words were no more than a whisper.

John took that step back into Rodney's personal space, not sure what he was going to do and the fact that the other four in the room were all trying to turn their faces away didn't really help. God, it looked like even Keller knew about the two of them and she'd been here for what, five, six weeks?

"Go, Colonel," Rodney frowned. "The sooner you open your early Christmas gift, the sooner you can help me pick out some real ones."

John nodded. He wanted -- needed -- to touch Rodney, and settled for giving Rodney's shoulder a squeeze. "Lorne is waiting for you in the Control room. We figure there will be a trip to Proculus after this, one way or the other, and I mentioned that you knew the way."

"John," his voice wasn't any louder than Cooper's had been. "I'm not going to leave --"

"Yeah, you are, because if something _does_ happen, they might need your gene as well as your brain, and Lorne is going to be too busy taking care of any of the other fallout." John tried not to growl; the last thing they needed was to get into a fight and delay things any further. Or have what might be their last words to one another spoken in anger.

Rodney got both of John's messages and swallowed what he'd been starting to say although his frown deepened. "I'll send the Asurians a fucking map if she --"

"I'll make sure we get ringside seats," John squeezed Rodney's shoulder again before letting go and stepping back.

Considering what Chaya had been able to do to the Wraith that had earn her her exile from ascension, and what John had actually been able to observe her do to the other Wraith armada that had tried to cull Proculus, he wasn't all that sure the Asurian Replicators would be able to get close enough to take her down. Conversely, the Ancients who'd reclaimed Atlantis and kicked the expedition back to Earth had fallen to those same Replicators in less than a day, despite having all of the city's technology and weapons at their disposal. So maybe it was an even money bet.

"Give us two more minutes, Captain Harkness, then let her through." John gave Rodney once last look before signaling Zelenka to break the seal on the outer door that led to the airlock overlooking the lab. He'd trust that Rodney would leave -- wasn't going to look back in any case. He also had one last bit to coordinate as he trotted down the staircase anyway. After having the entire Control room (and more) witness what had happened to him with Koyla's pet Wraith, John wasn't about to have _this_ encounter broadcasted over an open military channel.

"Carson, Lorne, switch over to command channel three," he ordered before switching his own radio. Elizabeth and Rodney would have also heard the command (along with Keller and Zelenka). Whoever else stayed (or joined the others already present) would have to watch and listen through the lab's internal communications system.

"_Channel Three, aye_," Lorne came immediately back on the new frequency in a radio check. Carson didn't know enough to do so, but John wasn't really worried about keeping their CMO in the loop in real time, since if something did happen when John and the box got within touching distance, he didn't imagine there would be much even Keller could do being on site.

"_Ronon and Teyla are getting kitted out along with Captain Sanada's team for the trip to Proculus, Sir_," Lorne continued. "_And Follet's signaling from Harkness that it's show time_."

Even as Lorne's words finished, the light over the door below and opposite from John's position halfway down the stairs blinked to show that someone had entered through the first hermetically-sealed doorway on the lab's main level.

Showtime indeed.

Forty-five seconds later the airlock cycled again, and the light switched from yellow to green. John made it down the last of the stairs, although he didn't bother moving further forward. Once he had passed into his own airlock, he'd no longer been able to sense the Ancient tech (proving Rodney had done a pretty thorough job in modifying this lab),but now he was almost knocked to his knees from the force of what Cooper was carrying as her final door swung open. Even Harper should have been able to sense this -- hell, _Elizabeth_ should be able to sense it and she was as gene null as anyone. But no one had mentioned anything extraordinary, so John could easily believe that it was keyed only to him.

This, coupled with what he could only describe as excited and eager feelings (something only Atlantis herself seemed to be able to convey, and only after John had been away for an extended amount of time), allowed John to relax at least a little of his tension. The eagerness of the box to perform left him no doubt that this thing was Ancient. While he knew certain of the Genii and maybe one or two other peoples they'd come in contact with would be more than happy to do damage to one John Sheppard, outside of a real Ancient or an Asurian, he knew of no civilization or individual who could key a piece of technology to someone who wasn't present at the time of imprinting. This didn't mean it still wasn't dangerous, but at least this first litmus test didn't guarantee it was a trap.

"You doing okay, _Lef_tenant?"

The young Welsh woman nodded, although her smile was strained. "I'm so sorry about this, Sir. I couldn't stop myself back on P5X-475 --"

"Hey, it's okay," John reassured her, wanting to close the distance between them for her more than the box, but holding stationary just to prove to himself that he could. "I'm sure even McKay would be here if he'd run into the priest first. They're pretty compelling like that." He gave her a quick smile before licking his lips. "But I don't suppose now that I'm here, that you can put the box down before handing it over?"

She shook her head. "He said I am to hand it directly over to you. Well, to Major John Sheppard, Protector of Atlantis."

Huh, a demotion and promotion all in one. But of course, Chaya hadn't been on his mailing list to find out the Air Force now had to call him Lieutenant Colonel.

John could see Cooper try to set it down anyway, could see a bead of sweat trickling down from her hairline and a faint tremble in her arms as she squatted and then rose carefully back up to her full height. It didn't look like the box was heavy, nor was it very large, although it wouldn't take much more than a ball the size of his _Titleist_ to level a room this size if it were made of C4, so...

"Did he say anything else?"

Cooper closed her eyes. When she began to speak, it sounded like something being repeated by rote, but not necessarily as if someone else was speaking through her. This didn't make it any less disturbing.

"Praise the Ancestors, I've found you. You must take this to Major John Sheppard, the Protector of Atlantis and hand it over to no one else. Only then can blessed Athar safeguard the future." She shook herself before opening her eyes again.

"I wasn't even thinking about protesting that I didnae know any Major Sheppard or any Athar, Sir. I just found myself reaching for the box he held, then feeling happy and urgent both. Ianto tried to stop me while Tosh tried to stop the priest, but it all happened so damn fast that it was basically too late. When we met up with Jack -- Captain Harkness -- and Owen who'd gone off exploring the market on their own, they spent a little time trying to find out about the priest from the locals. This is when we learned he _was_ a priest. But other than everyone deeming him harmless if a bit mysterious and, well, loony for trying to talk up his religion, we couldn't find anything else out about him. And I really, _really_ wanted to get back to Atlantis by then…"

As RAF lieutenants didn't cried as a matter of course when the shit hit the fan -- even when they were women -- John decided the tears he saw rimming Cooper's eyes were probably from the struggle she was still exerting against the box and not from any fear that she'd botched a mission. "Well then, let's let you finish your task, Lieutenant, and let you get on with your evening. I hear they're serving some sort of pizza surprise in the mess tonight and you're holding your team up."

"Never really liked pizza myself, Sir," as John signaled her further into the room then stopped her in the middle. "I'm more of a fish and chips girl. Or a good _tandoori_ chicken."

"I've always preferred _Koli Saaru_ myself. Or _Khoresht-e Seib_ although with lamb instead of chicken," John offered as he then closed the rest of the distance between them. He didn't look up to the observation windows.

"Don't think I know the last one, Sir."

"It's Afghani. Can be made with chicken, duck, lamb or beef. Brown sugar, apple bits and cherries make it sweet, the onion, pepper, saffron and lime juice give it the bite. If they ever tried to make it here, I guess they'd have to come up with something other than lime juice for Rodney." He was rambling and his last words earned him a snort in his ear, but he was glad to hear that Rodney was still with him.

Standing directly in front of Cooper now, it was all John could do _not_ to grab the box away from her. Its sense of needing completion was all-encompassing. But so was Cooper's trembling, and a quiet set of harsh breathing coming over the comm.

"This isn't your fault no matter what happens, Cooper," John said quietly enough that he doubted the ones only listening through the lab pick-ups could hear. "Shit happens, whether here or on Earth, and I'm damn proud of you for keeping your head.

Her breath hitched in something that was a gulp or hiccup or maybe even a sob, and she nodded. "I still sometimes can't believe aliens are real, Sir," she quirked a sad little smile. "I mean, I wanted my entire life to visit other worlds or have a friend like ET, and even now…" She gulped again and took a deep breath, straightening her body until she was standing at attention but for the position of her hands. "I'm damn proud to have been a part of Atlantis."

"I wasn't all that fond of ET, but I did try to build a Uranium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator when I was seven," John turned it back into something light and innocent instead of too much like last words. "I figured if I got rid of the neighbor's tree and put a mattress down there instead, I'd only be jumping from the single-story portion of the roof and my mom wouldn't have anything to ground me about."

That got a laugh from her and her body relaxing again, which let John take up his own deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay, instead of trying to grab it from you, how about I hold my hands below yours and see if you can just let it go," which would be a little bit of a trick since he had about seven inches on her, but she was already carrying it at breast level so it would be doable.

"Even if you have to actually hold on until you set it in my hands, I want you to back away once you're able to let go and get the fuck out of here. Don't stop and wait to see what happens, there are plenty of people watching up there," he gestured with his chin toward the transparent panels above them. "If I can, I'm going to wait to activate anything once you've at least made it into the airlock, but I can already tell it wants to work, so I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry."

"Right then. Should I do a countdown?"

Damn, but she looked so young and earnest. "Just let it go, Gwen."

The box dropped. John couldn't actually see if Cooper moved even a step away from him, much less out of the room. The instant his hands came in contact with the box it opened and something very bright spilled out and began to surround his body. He could see nothing but a brilliant whiteness a hundred times more intense than his _sharing_ with Chaya, although a part of him recognized that this was still something similar -- that he could actually sense her now, only this time there was no holding back on her part because he was human and mortal. It was Chaya and Teer and also that goddamn instant when Rodney had started to ascend --

And then absolutely nothing.

*********

Rodney knew without seeing -- without even having to hear -- that John was gone long before the chorus of shocked voices overloaded his earwig. He wasn't sure if his knowledge was somehow connected with his near ascension or his affinity to Ancient tech, or simply because he _known_ this sort of shit was inevitable if Chaya returned to get involved with John. She'd wanted John then, the both of them maybe more just wanting some sort of closeness than from an actual attraction to one another, and Rodney had no doubt that her loneliness had sucked all the more for having one day of company with someone like John. He could almost feel sorry for her, since _he'd_ wanted John himself by then, but he wanted the whole package -- obnoxious laugh and all -- not just the Ancient gene carrier.

Times like this, Rodney sometimes wished John didn't have the ATA gene, even if it would have meant they'd never met. For all that Rodney spent most of his day wishing for (and finding and then interpreting) the things the Ancient's left behind, there was a part of him that would rather they'd found nothing ever -- or at least nothing _more_ \-- since just about every piece of tech was more cursed or useless than helpful. And that all that bad seemed to gravitate toward John and his fucking magic gene, courtesy of some fucking Ancient who couldn't keep it in his pants when he'd gone _native_ during their exile to Earth.

Rodney didn't need past experiences with the Goa'uld or his own world's religious troubles throughout history to know that the beings most of the Pegasus Galaxy worshipped as gods were anything but. In his mind, the Hercules tv series had gotten it right: '_The ancient gods were petty and cruel, and they plagued mankind with suffering and besieged them with terrors_.'

After all, what kind of 'enlightened' society left machines around that operated with a single touch and whose sole purpose was to force you to ascend or die? Or created one-way portals with no warnings at the entrance and no means of escaping after you went through, except again by ascension/dying? That left two (well, three if you counted their own disaffected) enemies behind, and weren't even defending themselves when those disaffected called themselves the Ori and declared open season not only on their Ancient brothers' butts, but didn't care if they took out every other species and civilization to accomplish their goal?

No, Chaya was just one in a long line of irresponsible and decidedly _unenlightened_ beings that included Oma, Morgan, Merlin and Janus. They'd abandoned their principles along with their children (and their worshippers), expecting those left behind to fight their battles _and_ to still worship and protect them, yet offered nothing but cryptic prophecy and broken promises in return. _To safeguard the future_, Cooper had said just before John was taken from them, and Rodney had no doubt the priest had meant Chaya's future -- or all of the Ancients -- but he doubted they'd meant humanity's, the expedition's or even John's.

For an instant Rodney hated them all, even if their existence was what had given him the opportunity to discover Atlantis (and John). Fiercely glad that Chaya had been punished to be immortal but alone throughout that immortality, Rodney was also secretly pleased that the other Ancients who'd returned and kicked them out of Atlantis had fallen so quickly and thoroughly to the Replicators. While he didn't believe in the virtue or benevolence of some greater power that'd look out for him if he only worshiped them in return, Rodney _did_ believe in karma. At least when it came to people eventually getting what they deserved. In his experience, people too stupid to live invariably found a way to kill themselves, and as far as he knew, there was no reason to suspect that that didn't apply to ascended beings too, even if he, himself, wouldn't live long enough to see that karma and justice prevail.

In Chaya's case he would make sure that not only _did_ he live long enough, but that he would be the one delivering that justice.

John had said Lorne was already having a jumper prepped. Rodney was determined that it wouldn't be leaving without him. No matter what Elizabeth was going on about right now.

"Elizabeth, I don't know! I wasn't there, remember? Only able to listen in?" Rodney started pulling the pulls on his laptop and scanner and gathered all of the other equipment he'd brought just in case and begin arranging his backpack. "If I had to guess, I would say she ascended him, but I don't know how it would have been possible, or why she would have. And I would prefer not to make that guess, at least not until I've had a chance to look at the damn fucking box!"

Rodney barely stopped himself from further venting his disgust by pounding at the airlock door. No matter how much he wished it, it wasn't going to open before forty-five seconds and there was the real possibility that he would need his hands -- fingers -- unbroken before long. Zelenka would be facing the same delay from inside the observation booth, and there still might be some sort of interdiction because of the gene, so he'd need to have Zelenka staying lead on this at least to start.

"Lorne, don't you fucking dare let that jumper leave without me! Teyla," for Rodney had no doubt that Teyla had also been listening in, "make him wait --"

"_We will not leave without you, Rodney_."

Rodney believed her -- he always believed her -- and he allowed the calmness behind her words settle him.

"_It's your mission, McKay_," Lorne also sounded reassuring.

"_Rodney? I'm not sure…_"

Rodney tuned Elizabeth out upon meeting Cooper in the airlock; her moving out as he moved in.

"Yes, I know you're sorry and even I'm not going to hold it against you for more than a day or two," he scowled and spoke off-mike to the shaking lieutenant. She was probably gearing to say something in response, or to touch him (as if _her_ touch could provide any sort of comfort), but he bowled on past her and turned half of his attention back to Elizabeth while he watched Zelenka wave one of their energy detectors over the box forlornly abandoned on the floor.

Open, but not broken, not even dented as far as Rodney could see from across the room. Also no scorch marks or ash, but additionally no sign that John had even been there other than the towel he'd been wearing across his shoulders that had fallen onto the floor upon John's disappearance.

"Elizabeth, I'm going!" he scowled and brought out his own detecting equipment. "Chaya knows me -- knows _exactly_ how I feel about her, and also knows that I won't be leaving Proculus without answers." Huh. The box now read completely inert and the only sign of Ancient tech nearby was the device he was holding. "Nor is she going to be able to put a compulsion one me --"

"_She has the ability to destroy Wraith ships in orbit, Rodney. Are you --_"

"Fuck, Elizabeth, Chaya is not going to shoot us down." He didn't know why Elizabeth was trying to argue with him; she _had_ to be feeling the same sense of betrayal. "A puddle jumper won't be any threat to her world, and threats are all she's allowed to use her powers against." He frowned to see that Cooper had returned to the room behind him, and then ignored her to fiddle more with his scanner.

"You also can't believe that she won't be expecting some sort of contact, given what's happened here. She may be useless, but she's still an ascended Ancient and more or less omnipotent." At least where it came to John, Rodney feared, and he wondered if she might not have tried curing her loneliness a little by tuning in on his and John's carnal activities. Something he would resolutely have to forget even thinking about if he was going to be able to engage in said activities ever again.

"If she _does_ try to ignore us, I'll send a fucking engraved invitation to the Asurians -- and the Ori -- with her address on the return sticker."

"_So you've already threatened, _" Elizabeth began in a dry tone.

Although he didn't quite go so far as to remove the radio receiver from his ear, Rodney again ignored anything else Elizabeth was saying as he knelt down next to Zelenka. "What have you found?"

"I do not think the box itself is Ancient in origin," Zelenka began and held his scanner so that Rodney could read the findings over his shoulder. "There is no residual energy as if it has been drained -- is no hint of energy at all. When Colonel Sheppard touched the box we could see it open, and then a blinding flash of light. I cannot be sure the light came from inside or from the box itself --"

"It came from inside."

That was Cooper's contribution.

"The Colonel ordered me to back away, that he wouldn't activate the tech until I was clear, but it activated on its own before either of us could do anything. And I clearly saw the ball of light explode out from the inside the box to engulf him."

Rodney was about to tell her to stop hovering -- that she'd done enough -- but he supposed she was already feeling guilty and next to useless. Not that he was feeling all that differently himself.

He leaned back on his heels and spoke loud enough for the mike to pick his words up, but was really only speaking to Zelenka. "The transporters don't read as Ancient, but we can scan their energy usage. And I refuse to believe that even if they did create a personal unit that performs point to point transfers, they could miniaturize it into something that would fit in a hat box. I'm also having trouble believing they could create an ascension device that small, considering how much equipment it took to manage my near ascension."

"If it was dimensional shift device like crystal skull, where is it now?" Zelenka was nodding to Rodney's brainstorming and offering his own observations. "Was always that or quantum mirror left behind."

Rodney definitely did not want to think about quantum mirrors. No matter how much this universe sucked at times, every other glimpse into an alternate one showed that things were invariably worse, his own doppelganger's arrival here a few months ago notwithstanding.

"Same with ring devices, Asgard teleporters, hyperspace generators and every other object of translocomotion from the Stargate on down," Rodney agreed. "Lots of equipment, and some sort of residual energy that could be measured or traced. But there is absolutely nothing here."

"No residual energy though, when ascending or, rather," Zelenka shrugged and pushed his glasses back up his nose, "we do not know what happens at the moment of ascension. You didn't actually ascend, so we don't have record here any more than the SGC ever managed with Daniel Jackson. And no one thought to record the moment when the people of Sanctuary ascended." He prodded the box with the edge of his scanner, tilting it upright, with the lid still open.

"Yes, well, we were all rather busy with trying to figure out how not to get caught in the honey-trap and die of old age before you could even pour your next cup of coffee." Not Rodney's best rejoinder, but then neither of them were really looking to get into an argument.

Nothing remained on the floor where it had been tipped over; nothing was inside or even registered as having _been_ inside of it. No stain or shadow or indentation or ruffled nap, and Rodney was sure that even if (when) they performed the full gamut of forensic testing for particulates or environmental clues or even fingerprints, they'd find traces only the unidentifiable priest's and Cooper's. He rather doubted that even John's prints would be present.

"If she somehow ascended him, I'm going to make sure she regrets not being able to stay ascended herself," Rodney growled and regained her feet. Hearing a quickened breath that was only echoed by his comm device, Rodney looked up to see Elizabeth had taken a position up at the top of the stairs in the room with them. He met her gaze unflinchingly.

"Just make sure Chaya really is behind this, Rodney," was all that she said this time, however, her own expression also unforgiving and resolute. "I understand that it is unlikely that one of our enemies would even know about her, much less that she had a connection with John, but we have only one man's word and the compulsion placed on Lieutenant Cooper saying that Chaya was involved. Confirm that she is and I'll greenlight you doing … whatever is necessary to make her return John to us. Well, anything short of dragging the Ori into this," she tried to smile. "We have enough battles to fight without taking on the SGC's too."

"But the Asurans?" Rodney lifted his chin.

"I would like to hope that simply the threat of the Replicators newly rediscovered vow of vengeance against their creators would be enough to get her to talk. Tell you what, Rodney," she managed a real, if quick, twist of a smile this time. "If during all of this you're able to discover where Merlin's great weapon is, I'll let you show it to her before we turn it over to the SGC."

Rodney nodded, satisfied. He wouldn't spare the time to look for Merlin's Ori/Ancient killer, of course, and while he really wasn't about to declare war on Chaya (at least he didn't think he was), it was good to confirm that Elizabeth agreed that this was an act of aggression that demanded some sort of immediate response. Chaya had already proven impossible to reason with, bound as she was to her narrow worldview and her jailer's rules. He would like to hope that the other Ancients would be pissed off at her interference and he had some ideas of how he could let them know should Chaya prove intractable. He also had to believe that she wouldn't be able to kill them -- at least not up in space with her energy attack like she'd destroyed the Wraith -- or he wasn't sure he could go through with this and endanger Teyla and Ronon too.

The thought that she might have lost it, that she'd actually gone insane from her exile and loneliness also came to Rodney's mind. It would make sense that she'd fixated on the last person outside of her own followers she'd '_shared_' with, and if she did have a way of kidnapping John by proxy… Well at least that should mean John would be there somewhere on Proculus with her.

"Keep someone scanning and testing the box to make sure it stays inert," he began passing on his orders to Zelenka for the rest of his staff. "You should also coordinate with Lorne and start teams searching through the parts of the city that are off scanner, just in case it was a weird if simple transporter and he is trapped somewhere within Atlantis." He looked again to the top of the stairs.

"Elizabeth, I think it would be a good idea for you to contact the SGC and get all of Carter's notes on the crystal skull and whatever else she was playing around with that translocated her and Mitchell last year. If they actually still have the device intact, I'd like someone to get it to us through the intergalactic bridge since you've already arranged its use for the freaking Christmas gifts in two days. I can't see how it will really help us, but having something to work with and test for dimensional shifts couldn't hurt. Carson," Rodney then spoke to one of disembodied voices he'd more or less been ignoring, "can I have Keller?"

"_I don't go offworld, Doctor McKay_."

"You're already offworld just by coming to Atlantis, Keller," Rodney scoffed. "And if all goes well, you'll never have to set foot out of the puddle jumper."

"_But_ \--"

"_Perhaps I had better come along instead, Rodney? _"

"I need you to work with Zelenka, Carson. If the box suddenly becomes hot again, I doubt Elizabeth is going to let Lorne touch it, and I need Miko to start working on the database for some sort of reference to this happening before. Outside of Elizabeth, you know the most about ascension, and if we can somehow transport someone to where John is, I can't see how another grunt is going to be of much use, but you might --." He stopped before he voiced the obvious conclusion of why he wanted a healer with John, and instead let his anger and frustration have reign over his worry.

With a fifty-two percent failure rate on the gene therapy, and the fact that receiving it was still voluntary, they just didn't have that many gene capable people. Even when the therapy did work, most were like Harper and the younger Winchester brother; they could barely turn on the lights, not that Carson was all that much better. What they really needed were more natural carriers. But Rodney had little faith that even if the SGC _was_ still testing its recruits for the ATA gene, Atlantis would get them. Landry was keeping everything of use for the fight against the Ori, included gene carriers to operate the Antarctica chair and what ever other Ancient tech they found in their own searches.

"Teyla?"

"_Ronon and I are awaiting you in the ready room, Rodney. We have your tac vest but were unsure if there was more you would need. _"

"No, I'm good," because his laptop was with his pack in the lab next door and he was still holding onto an Ancient scanner. "But if one of you could help Carson with a pack for Keller?"

Once in the corridor, Rodney realized he'd picked up a retinue consisting of Cooper and the rest of her team. While it might be good to have the extra firepower, doctor and gene carrier, Rodney shook his head. "You aren't going," he directed to Harkness. "Lorne's already got a team up and you still need to go through the medical to make sure there aren't any more nasty surprises like Cooper's compulsion. I'll make sure Chaya gets her hooks out of Cooper, assuming it hasn't already worn off. If later we're going to send a fleet of puddle jumpers out to give her what for, you can come along. But not this time."

Harkness narrowed his eyes Rodney's direction, but then nodded and slung one arm around Sergeant Jones' neck and used his other hand to gently cup Cooper's elbow and not so gently drag her along too. Doctors Sato and Harper followed without protest or any further prompting and Rodney could almost like that team, except that Harper was an asshole, Cooper was too damn green. Jones and Sato were too timid, and Harkness flirted even worse than John did -- with any gender and any species.

Lorne was also waiting in the ready room when Rodney arrived, and while he hadn't brought a P-90, he was handing over a 9 mil for Rodney's use. "Miller's going to be your pilot, with Sergeant Date as the back-up, so you don't have to worry about doing any of the flying."

Rodney wanted to say no -- to request a new pilot -- because he hadn't actually been on a mission with Miller since the ill-fated one to the satellite. Even just seeing Miller in the corridors or the mess hall always had Rodney remembering the sacrifice and loss of Peter Grodin. Still, he knew Miller was good and, as Lorne had guessed, he wasn't up to flying himself unless he absolutely had to. He didn't know Date other than as one of the international recruits with a weak manifestation of the gene. From Japan, Rodney was thinking, despite the blond hair signifying an obvious _gaijin_ parent (probably on the father's side given the countless numbers and certain predilections of American GIs on duty in Okinawa).

In fact, if Rodney was remembering correctly, _all_ of Sanada's team was Japanese -- or maybe one of them was Korean or Chinese. Rodney also remembered being surprised to learn that John didn't intend to split them up anytime soon despite that whole integration theme Elizabeth preferred. In this instance Rodney was glad to be going in with backup that was all military though, and had years of working together as a unit behind them.

Their specialty was defense, rescue and recovery, and they had pretty much become the team to go to when the shit hit the fan, now that the expedition had enough military personnel to allow specialties and they could actually afford not send Lorne in after John and Rodney's team and vise versa, all the time. It was bad enough that he and John were on the same team and thusly leaving their seconds in charge of their responsibilities every time they went off world. To then be sending those seconds out to handle most rescues had been the height of stupidity.

Except such a team needed to be comprised of experienced field operators and someone who had a chance of figuring out any alien tech, and there just hadn't been many choices even through much of their second year here. It had been decidedly worse that first year, when it had been not only John and Rodney, but John's second, Lieutenant Aiden Ford on the first contact team, and the closest things to military officers left on Atlantis to handle the rescue (or manage Atlantis' defense) had been a handful of sergeants.

"Miller's orders are to stay with the jumper," Lorne was continuing as Rodney let Teyla help him adjust his vest and equipment. Rodney checked the 9 mil himself, despite knowing that Lorne would have made sure it was clean and loaded, and Rodney absolutely didn't preen under the look of satisfaction and respect he was given for doing so.

Of course Rodney had taken John's weapon's training and admonishments to heart.

"I want you to check in once you've cleared the space gate. We'll give you four hours to make contact before we send back-up, but if you think it's safe for Miller to leave you planet-side to make an earlier report, I wouldn't take it amiss. The _Daedalus_ is three days out of Atlantis if it comes to that, and assuming Elizabeth or Caldwell will take the chance with the warship if both teams end up out of touch." Lorne frowned and did his own check of McKay's straps although, of course, Teyla's attention had been just as precise as John's ever was. "If you can clear this up before Caldwell arrives, well…"

Lorne didn't actually voice the words, but then he didn't have to. Colonel Steven Caldwell wasn't actively gunning for John's job any longer, but he was still completely Earth and SGC centric and too often came off heavy-handed when he stepped in to take temporary command over Atlantis' military. For all that Lorne had been picked to be Caldwell's second before Elizabeth had strong-armed the SGC into keeping John as the military commander, Lorne and John worked surprisingly well together and had the Marines' loyalty even if their style of running things wasn't quite all _semper fi_. The only soldiers who didn't view Caldwell's arrival with trepidation or disdain were the new ones Caldwell and the _Daedalus_ brought with them on any given trip -- or the ones who always ended up rotating back to Earth at first chance for not being able to fit in. Assuming they lived long enough in the first place to put in for their return to Earth.

Now ready and buoyed with self-righteousness if not actual confidence, Rodney nodded and gestured for his team to move out for the jumper bay. In too many ways this was a repeat of the mission to rescue John from Kolya and his Wraith, only this time it was _Rodney's_ mission, instead of him just being an add-on that the soldier's hadn't been able to refuse -- add-on and comic relief. Fortunately the only mice Proculus had were the priests and petitioners, and against Chaya, Rodney's best weapon would be his intelligence and his words, not his aim with a gun.

Inside the puddle jumper, Keller was sandwiched in between Rei Fuan and Hashiba, with Mori and Sanada taking up seats on the bench opposite. Miller was in the pilot's seat and Date had taken up position behind instead of at the co-pilot's seat, which Rodney gratefully took possession of, although he didn't make any acknowledgement other than a nod of greeting to Miller. This seat would allow Rodney to interface with all of the jumper systems Miller wouldn't be bothering with, including the formidable life-sign sensors.

It went without saying that the ones on the _Daedalus_ were better, but Rodney and Zelenka, with Carson's help, had managed to integrate a similar tracking system keyed to the subcutaneous transmitters all gate teams now had had inserted. Plus he would have any advanced knowledge of energy bursts coming out to vaporize them, assuming he was wrong about Chaya's limits and expectations. There was nothing worse than knowing you were about to die but not being able to actually see anything.

Rodney had half expected Teyla to take a seat across from Keller and use her preternatural serenity to keep the jumpy doctor from vibrating herself out of her seat from all of her shaking. Instead Teyla followed Rodney into the forward cabin and took up a position behind him, leaving Ronon to loom somewhat threateningly in the back (and doing nothing to calm Keller whatsoever). Not that Rodney really cared about the skittish doctor unless any of this affected her ability to do her job.

"Atlantis flight, Jumper Three is ready to go outbound," Miller signaled the Control room and started the auto-sequencing that shifted the jumper from its bay and dropped it down to take up a position in front of the gate.

"Jumper Three, you have a go," Elizabeth responded instead of Chuck. "Be safe and bring him home."

*********

Even before he recalibrated the scanners for a second time and set them tracking for a third, Rodney knew the answer would be nothing. The Proculus below them was nothing like the verdant, tropical planet they had last visited, was instead brown and barren and, yes, excessively hot in a way all those subscribing to the cult of global warming predicted for the Earth. Only here it wasn't the result of a normal planetary life cycle or even the frivolous actions of her inhabitants. As far as Rodney was able to tell, it wasn't due to a bombardment or culling from the Wraith either.

Rather, Rodney suspected, it was from the lack of action by just one of its inhabitants. Chaya. As if somehow her ascended life force had been tied to the planet's and now that she appeared to be missing, the planet, like its people, had nothing left to live for. Because it wasn't just that Chaya was missing; Rodney could find no life signs bigger and stronger than scraggly herds of near-deer.

He dutifully reported all of this back to Atlantis, then directed Miller to land anyway, and Elizabeth didn't' protest so Rodney didn't have to disobey. While he wasn't exactly changing his mind on Chaya's involvement in John's disappearance, the signs of ruin, decay and the encroaching wilderness on all of the areas that had been more or less civilized previously didn't look like they had just occurred in the last couple of days. Further investigation was merited, even if it was just to disprove Chaya's participation in any of this.

From the air the planet looked tired and old -- all worn out and worn away. They could see no evidence of ship to ground weapon's fire, no paths of scorched earth and burnt forests from secondary fires that no one was left to put out. As they settled down into the same square John had first made into a landing pad, they could see no bodies either. Hopefully this lack put to rest Keller's timidly advanced theory that maybe the inhabitants had succumbed to some sort of plague or contagion. Of course, all of the bodies could have been dragged off into one of the half fallen huts first for caretaking and then entombment, but without John there to reassure him that he was just borrowing trouble and looking for the worst case scenario, Rodney didn't want to voice his concern and actually have someone else think that he might be right.

If they didn't find any clue or real information here, Rodney wasn't sure what steps they could take next other than to try and track an itinerant priest that had already likely moved on from Cooper's planet now that his nefarious deed had been completed.

Rodney wasn't sure how a plague might register to the jumper, but he didn't doubt that it would, not after the Ancients had nearly succumbed as a species to one, and based on the contagion protocols installed in Atlantis itself. That should also cover for nanoviruses, but Rodney had refined his own ways of detecting Replicator technology after almost losing Elizabeth to one of their attacks. It was coming up negative too.

So, no signs of disease, violence, people or Ancients, ascended or not.

"We're going to have to go out there," Rodney finally sighed.

"Shu, you stay here and look after Doctor Keller, the Lieutenant and the jumper," Sanada simply ordered to the sound accompaniment of professional soldiers checking weapons and supplies. Sanada's Japanese accent was fainter than Miko's, although he spoke English more like he'd learned it from watching tv or movies. "Teyla, if you would take point with Shin," and he actually waited for her to nod. "Seiji you cover Doctor McKay. Ronon and I will bring up the rear. We've got three and a half hours left, so there should be time to check the settlement as well as Athar's temple."

"We're looking for the reason the people here bugged out, and any idea of how long ago," Rodney supplied his own orders. "If you detect any Ancient tech, don't even approach within touching distance. This is not going to become some sort of weird scavenger hunt or road rally."

No more than it already was.

"I imagine you will want to go directly to the temple first, Doctor McKay?" Seiji Date asked, his words and tone just as precise as Teyla's.

Rodney nodded; surprised and impressed that someone had managed to complete his mission reading despite how little actual time they'd taken between John's disappearance and the launch through the gate.

"If there is somebody still around, they will no doubt come out to at least inquire our purpose," Teyla offered. "The clerics of Athar were very protective of their goddess despite their placid-seeming demeanors."

That came as a surprise to Rodney, but then he'd pretty much tuned everything out that first time once Chaya had descended like the goddess she claimed she was and had commanded all of John's attention. He did remember people being quick to show up once they'd landed, however.

Not so this time. The planet wasn't necessarily completely dead, but it was definitely in its decline and since it had a space gate, Rodney doubted anyone would be moving in any time soon. This begged the question of how any of her people had managed to get off planet without intervention by the Wraith, but they were finding no evidence of anything other than an actual evacuation or migration as they walked through the village on the way to the temple. No broken furniture or half-eaten, spoiled food on the communal tables; no abandoned toys or laundry or supplies -- food or otherwise -- had been left at all. Pointing all the more to an orderly departure. Or divine intervention.

"Could they all have ascended?" Sergeant Hashiba asked.

"Last I knew, ascended beings don't take their luggage and grain stores with them," Rodney snorted.

Other than a roll of his eyes and exchanged smirks with Date, Hashiba showed no sign of being affected by Rodney's sarcasm. Rodney would have felt insulted, but it seemed as if Lorne or John (or both) had been working on most of the military and their reactions to one Doctor Rodney McKay's verbal tongue-lashings. At least being a source of amusement was better than being one of derision -- or in being ignored.

"Place hasn't been vacant very long, despite what the buildings and environment show," Ronon spoke as he rose from a crouch and his intense study of broken grass blades or invisible footprints or whatever he always seemed able to find and use to track. "People were here a day or two ago."

"One person or a group of them?" Sanada asked, unconsciously lifting his P-90 into a more direct firing position as if someone was going to pop out of the ether immediately. At least he wasn't questioning Ronon's conclusion.

"Group. Maybe not a whole village, but ten or more."

"So we're seeing the aftermath of Sauron here?" Mori piped up. "End of the great sorcerer, well sorceress, and everything just started collapsing? Time's speeding up now that her power has been withdrawn and everything returning to how it was before she became Athar?"

Rodney wasn't the only one who looked like he'd been kicked in the gut at the words _time's speeding up_. Teyla looked positively green and Ronon's habitual scowl has some real anger behind it. Rodney had to force himself to breathe and then raise a shaking hand to his radio.

"Miller, I think you better take the ship back up to the gate and check in. Make sure we can contact Atlantis, and that we're still in the same fucking time-zone."

Sanada raised his brow, the skin pulling on the tiger tattoo he had crawling down this side of his face to make it look like it was actually moving. He didn't contradict Rodney's order, however. Obviously this whole team had nothing better to do than read after action reports for all the missions they hadn't been sent on.

"There's no use waiting around for that answer," Rodney then gestured for the others to resume moving. "If we're trapped in a time dilation field, not knowing for a couple of minutes isn't going to make a damn bit of difference for us. I'm also thinking it might be a good idea to keep the jumper in orbit while we're here, since if the Wraith do decide to come visiting now, there isn't likely to be any explosive welcome wagon and we can use all the heads up we can get."

"Good thinking, Doctor," Sanada agreed and passed on that order to Miller himself.

The temple was actually the most damaged of the buildings they'd walked amongst, as if the decay was starting from this point and spreading outward in a radius instead of any natural progression of the wilderness overtaking the village around the outer edges first. The comparison to Mordor maybe wasn't all that far fetched, although Chaya had been no Sauron even in Rodney's worst moods. Not even a Saruman, but instead more like Donovan in _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_, being more stupid and greedy than evil, and except that when _she_ picked up the wrong grail cup, it was the world that aged around her instead.

He'd gotten nary a blip on the life sign detector or his tech scanner so far, his handheld devices matching the data they'd gotten from the jumper. But as they had rooms on Atlantis that masked energy signatures, Rodney couldn't depend on there not being something similar here in the temple. Especially up in Chaya's room. Rodney only hoped it wouldn't also contain creepy stalker photos of John all over the walls, and pictures with Rodney's face x-d out or cut away.

Once inside the temple, Sanada and Ronon took point since they had the heaviest fire power. Rodney stayed firmly in the middle, even willing to pause when Sanada got a report from Miller and confirmed that Atlantis and they were following the same relative timeline. The basilica was empty like the rest of the village, as was the nave, although an altar still rested at the end. But there were no candles or incense or whatever the Pegasus/Athar equivalents were to a corporal, missal or Eucharistic vessels, and Rodney was pretty sure there had been _some_thing like that present the last time in amongst all of her tropical greenery.

On first pass, Chaya's chambers were empty too, to sight and to scanner, but Rodney watched as his watchdog shook himself in passing through a corner of the room and aimed the scanner that direction once more. Still nothing, not even as Rodney drew closer.

Nothing except an absolute certainty that Rodney needed to stand in that exact spot.

"Captain, I think you should pull your men out of this room." Rodney wasn't speeding toward the corner but he wasn't dragging his feet either, and when he actually came to a stop something in the back of his brain was saying don't.

"Doctor?"

"There is something here. Date sensed it, but it doesn't want him."

"I promised Major Lorne I wouldn't let anything happen to you," Sanada hedged and started Rodney's direction. "If we need to evacuate, we _all_ should evacuate."

"My mission, Captain. My orders supercede Major Lorne's." For once Rodney had some empathy for someone else outside his team; Lorne wouldn't be the only one pissed if this ended up disappearing Rodney too. It wasn't even as if he wanted to be the one to trigger the lure, yet if it did end up sending him to John (even if that meant ascension or death), Rodney was more or less okay with that. The wonders of Atlantis and Pegasus wouldn't mean anything without John there to share them.

"We will stay with Doctor McKay," Teyla offered with a gesture toward Ronon. He nodded and shouldered his gun.

"I'm not sure how that will be any better," Sanada began.

"I think they are right, Ryo," Date interrupted in quiet tones. "There is something here that is masking its presence. Even if Athar was not a true god in the sense of our knowledge, this place has been blessed by many spiritualists and for very many years. No harm will come to them."

The more that Captain Sanada looked convinced, the more uneasy Rodney felt, although that could also just be a knee-jerk reaction to Date's new-age zenlike mumble-jumble. As far as Rodney was concerned, any religion was simply a way of controlling the masses, either by imposing civilization and rules, or through actual subjugation and sacrifice. The existence of God as the creator of all life was simply another expression of quantum theory: he/she/it existed because there were worshippers who acted and reacted in that god's name, and it didn't matter whether one called it Yahweh, Athar, Zeus or Date's Buddha.

Believers meant Schrödinger's cat was alive.

"We'll give you fifteen minutes, then we're coming back in," Sanada agreed and signaled for the rest of his team to back out. "And we're not going any farther than the lower floor."

Teyla nodded on Rodney's behalf when he offered nothing more. She left Ronon near the door and came to stand next to Rodney. "All of the conclusions you offered to Elizabeth are still valid, Rodney. I do not believe Chaya wishes any of us harm, even if she had the power to do so. What I do believe is that she will have left us -- you -- a message. Because you were also right in saying she would have to believe that we would come. Perhaps, like Morgan… le Fay on Atlantis, she can only speak in this instance when someone actually recognizes her presence."

Rodney nodded, took a deep breath and handed his scanner and then his pack with his laptop off to Teyla's willing hands. If he was going to be transported somewhere, no doubt he'd regret not having them, but if he was going to be ascended, well he'd already let his feelings known on carrying material possession with you during enlightenment. And, if it was just going to be a big energy surge or destructive beam, he had too much important research stored on the laptop to leave as a legacy. Not to mention the data -- little though it was -- that they'd collected here in their last hour on Proculus.

"Here goes nothing," he said, and wiped his sweaty hands against his tac vest. Teyla and Ronon both gave him looks of _hurry on with it_ when he didn't move other than to look once more in their direction, although Teyla's expression was more encouraging than rude. Another deep breath and Rodney timed his exhale to match his steps. He ran out of walking distance before he ran out of breath. The feeling that had been in the back of his brain was suddenly forefront and rather overwhelming, but surprisingly in an eager manner than something that felt like a compulsion.

"Chaya?"

Just like the hologram form that Morgan had taken in Atlantis, Chaya appeared before him, the edges of her flickering a little and glowing a lot. "Doctor McKay." She turned her head. "Teyla and, I am afraid I do not know you. Aiden Ford is --"

"Not here, and do you really need to waste time with introductions?" Rodney scowled. "Where is he?"

"Where he needs to be," Chaya scowled in return with the same hardness in her expression that was all she'd ever directed toward Rodney.

"With you?"

Chaya actually looked surprised at that question, and for a moment her face softened. "No, Rodney, he is not here. Because he turned down ascension previously, he will have to consciously decide that is how he intends to continue."

"Wait, you really are ascended now? No more mortal visits and moonlight picnics?"

That got him the hard look again, and a noise from Teyla. Yeah, okay, so now _he_ was the one wasting time.

"Okay, so John is …"

Chaya's body moved as if she was sighing, although that was redundant if she had really ascended.

"There are/were things that need/needed to be set in motion. I am one key, John was another."

"Was?" Rodney clutched at that word in alarm. "Like _dead_ was, or…?"

"He is not… should not be dead." She affected another sigh but offered nothing more.

Rodney wanted to punch her or throttle her or at least shake her until she rattled and broke. "So where is he?"

Even Ronon seemed to be getting a little fed up with her, if Rodney had correctly identified the sound of his gun being charged up. Too bad it wouldn't do anything to someone who wasn't really there.

"You cannot go to him," Chaya warned, and for a moment her face held an expression of fierce satisfaction before fading back into the placid, non-expression she'd had ten thousand or so years to perfect. "When the time is right, he will return to you."

For an instant Rodney was sure she'd stressed the word time, yet if it was a clue it brought him no comfort. Ancients had a funny way with time, whether they were ascended or not, and the memory of the time-dilation field John had been trapped in once before was still too raw.

"Is he well?" Teyla asked from her position next to Ronon. She'd placed her hand on Ronon's gun arm, whether to keep him from using it or just to offer a connection, Rodney wasn't really sure.

Chaya just looked sad and said no more before fading into nothingness, which Rodney supposed was answer enough.

_To safeguard the future. _

Stupid fucking Ancients.

*********

When John came to his senses, he knew he was no longer in the lab, but the infirmary doesn't seem right either. The place was still familiar, the feel and the smell and even the dry taste of it, as were the sounds muted around him. It was as if he'd fried all of his senses with that Ancient tech box, almost like he was once more traipsing across the bottom of Lantea's ocean in that diving suit, moving between the drilling platform and the submerged Wraith cruiser. Only this time it wasn't Rodney's voice buzzing in his ear. It was a woman's voice, saying sorry and he'll be okay, but it's not Teyla's or Elizabeth's or even Carson's new gal, J-something Keller.

No, not a woman's voice repeating his name, yet one still familiar and it's on the tip of his tongue --

"Wake the fuck up, goddammit! You're never going to hear the end of it if you've been taken out by a mangy son of a _Maacha khar_ \--

John's brain translated the Farsi without conscious thought into 'Donkey Whore' and with that his body jerked upright as his eyes snapped open.

"Mitch?"

"Oh, Jesus, Shep, you really are one lucky bastard," Robert Russell "Mitch" Mitchum said as he tried to haul John to his feet. "We've got to get clear, man. The fucking Mujs are lobbing mortars again! You're not really bleeding so I'm guessing you got clipped by a ricochet since you're face is bruised all to hell, but you're luck's not going to hold unless we get out of here!"

It was all John could do to stand. His head did hurt like a mother fucker, and that doesn't count the brain and body freeze he's gotten from the realization of where he's woken up in. Goddamn Balad, Iraq. Specifically Camp Anaconda, or Mortaritiville as they more liked to call it. He's somehow back at his last deployment before Antarctica, where he'd been flying choppers along with Mitch and Dexter "Dex" Thurman, and fucking Big Mike Holland. And if he's got his bearing right, John knows when this particular mortar attack happened, although he doesn't remember feeling this bad the first time around from when a fist-sized chunk of exploding tarmac had grazed his head.

It's got to be December 18th, 2003. Tomorrow the Christians In Action will get intel on the group who staged this little attack and during the next evening Mitch and Dex will be flying combat search and rescue while he and Mike fly cover in a borrowed Army Little Bird. The four of them will be looking for a squad of the Army's D-Boys, who will end up biting off more than they can chew because even the intel was a fucking trap.

And at 1850 Zulu over the skies of Khabour Valley, Mitch and Dex will take a RPG that barely leaves enough to bury. The Little Bird he and Holland were flying will take a hit also, but it's only bad enough to put them in the hands of the insurgents for a few days, not that John remembers much about what followed other than the gut-hollow loss of his two best friends, and the fact that Mike was the one who got him through their captivity with life, limb and sanity more or less intact. Then it will be six weeks of therapy and debriefings, a reassignment to Kandahar for all of another month, until Mike is shot down again and John will destroy his career by going after him.

Fun times. And thanks to some fucking Ancient device, it looks like he's going to get to live them all over again.

The thought that he could change all of this grips him so suddenly that John stops out in the open despite his training and the mortar attack. For a few seconds he ignored Mitch's growing string of foreign curses. But then Dex is running out to help Mitch with his sorry ass, and yeah, John could change things by getting them all killed today, and somehow he doubts that's what Chaya and her gang had in mind when they sent him here.

He brushed off his friends further haranguing, only pointed to his undoubtedly very visible head injury (since this is the third impact of the day on that side of his face) as he silently marveled at the convoluted planning and skills of the Ancients. With dead certainty he knows that his memories of the last three years of his life were not somehow a trauma induced fantasy, though he wonders if that is what he is supposed to be thinking.

Too bad, Chaya.

Less than an hour ago he'd been laid out on the gym floor in Atlantis after an elbow to the face. The same area he'd taken the shrapnel hit four years ago in Balad, and so none of the medics here are going to find anything abnormal from road rash and a cracked cheek bone, even if the rash is really surface burns from being a little too close to that small explosion in the puddle jumper. He'd even gotten his hair trimmed closer to regulation length thanks to that same explosion, although his unit had been here in Balad for a couple months already, and grooming regs weren't being all that enforced due to much more serious concerns like trying to stay alive with near daily mortar or sniper attacks. It wasn't as if Mitch or Dex will need to comment on his Atlantian wardrobe either. His workout clothes hadn't particularly changed in the last twenty years, much less the last four, and while John hadn't been playing basketball on December 18th, 2003, he had been coming back from an hour of PT when the mortar attack had started.

He couldn't have been inserted into his own past at a better point. Now all he had to figure out why.

First, however, he needed a handful of Tylenol to stop his eyes from wanting to ooze out of his head. He also better figure out a way to ditch his dog tags, since no one here would be amused to find him calling himself Lieutenant Colonel.

The three of them made it to the relative cover of the DFAC and even though it was after the dinner rush, they weren't the only ones here within its dubious shelter. John turned his pitiful, blackened eye Dex's direction who, with a snort that came from long experience in Sheppardspeak, duckwalks inside the dining facility to get them all bottles of chilled water. After three years of living on the ocean, John already feels dehydrated from just three minutes of breathing the desert air of summer in Iraq.

Upon Dex's return, John rolled the sweating bottle against the side of his face for a few minutes before downing half of it without pausing to breathe. If he remembered correctly, the all clear would sound in another five minutes, and Dex and Mitch would start insisting he be looked over by one of the medics. They let him get out of it for a promise that he'd immediately go back to their shared CHU for some rack time under the air conditioner.

Come morning then, they'll all be prepping for some payback and his squadron commander will only care that he's fit enough to be up in the air. So no one should notice the few extra scars he's picked up that aren't listed in his file here. Especially since several of those future scars will apparently be earned over the next week.

If his rack time gets spent more in contemplation than sleep, well it's not like Mike's going to notice since he'll be coming in from an oven-baking recon flight and be dead to the world as soon as he shucks his BDUs.

Five minutes pass, as does the expected exchange between the three of them. Dex offered to walk John back while Mitch looked for the OOD to report their survival and well-being. This wasn't the most extensive mortar attack on the base, but it had had its share of casualties (although only two had died in John's memory). As attacks were also _di rigour_ for the area (thus the _nom de guerre_ Mortaritiville), once everyone was accounted for life returned to a warzone's form of normal.

"Are you sure you're okay, Shep?" Dex flipped on the air conditioner for their four-person containerized housing unit.

Rodney had always complained about their small rooms and narrow beds in Atlantis, but obviously he'd never spent time in a combat base, where sharing an oversized shipping container was actually considered the good digs.

"I'm fine, Dex. Nothing a shower, drugs and sleep won't take care of. But you or Mitch could bring a sandwich back?"

Dex nodded, then gave John a grin that hurt to see. Four years weren't enough distance, not when he has to keep reliving their presence as if they were still alive.

"Hey, before you try that shower, write over your porn stash to me, okay? Just in case you collapse in there and die," Dex whines. ?Mitch seems to think you're going to will it to him, but we both know I'm the only one who can properly handle the distribution and the wealth of funds we'll earn once we make it available."

"Sorry, buddy, but I'm leaving it all to Big Mike," John dredged up a mask that included a broken, phony smile he figured Dex would write off to his injury. In a couple of days that would be true, although Mike would never collect it either.

"Fuck! Just because the guy gets assigned as your co-pilot and maybe ups your mission sortie rate, you're going to give up on a seventeen year relationship? I thought you, Mitch and me were BFFs, John!"

"No, you and Mitch are BFFs and I'm the third wheel, remember?"

So untrue, as through the Academy, basic training, aviation school and rotor training, the three of them had indeed been BFFs. The Three Mutineers they'd been called, because the name musketeers was too French (and too gay) for their fellow doolies to hang on them. (If only their fellow cadets had known; Mitch and Dex had been fuck buddies since their second year in high school and they'd had no trouble expanding their relationship to three after John came along.)

"No, you're the all purpose utility player, Shep. Tinker to Evans to Chance, man. With Big Mike behind the plate and nobody's going to get anything past us."

John accepted the hug although he didn't do much to participate. Not that Dex would have been expecting him to. This was one thing that hadn't changed much even in Atlantis and with Rodney. It was so much easier to deny and hide any sort of feeling for someone -- but especially for someone of the same gender -- when you didn't touch them at all (outside of sex). It had been a harsh way to live, and something John probably didn't need to be so adamant about now (his real now), but after nearly 25 years of denying himself that sort of comfort, it was much too awkward to break the habit.

"Get some rest, Shep. I'll make sure we don't make too much noise coming in tonight." Dex gave John a final pat on the shoulder, then a swat on his ass before laughing his way out of their shared quarters.

Not denying he needed it, what with the upcoming need to act the part of a Big Air Force major for a day, John still didn't expect to get much sleep after his quick shower. The knowledge -- and dilemma -- of what was fated to happen next kept going round and round in his mind. Along with the question of why the fuck the Ancients were putting him through this.

Sending someone under his command out into danger was something John had trained for, and now accomplished better than he could ever have hoped to have to come to terms with. It wasn't easy, of course, yet in some ways it actually was -- at least on Atlantis. The Wraith were an easy enemy to hate, fight against and protect the others from. It was always succeed or fail, with failure meaning death. His Marines felt the same, and even many of the civilians had come to the same realization. Sacrificing oneself if it meant others would live was a remarkably easy choice to make in the face of such monsters. Being seen as a food source had none of the moral ambiguity in normal combat conditions, nor much of the too often misplaced optimism (except for people like Elizabeth and Carson who still believed there was something redeemable within the Wraith). But unlike most of the Earth divisions, the one between the Humans and the Wraith didn't stem from people who'd grown up learning to hate all you stood for, but could possibly still be shown differently.

The dilemma John faced now wasn't even as clear-cut as authorizing a sacrifice of a few for the good of the many. Dex and Mitch's deaths hadn't served any great purpose or cause except in the abstract of doing one's duty for their country. Their deaths didn't save more lives. They had, in fact, caused more deaths, as none of the Delta Force squad lived long enough for a second rescue chopper to arrive on scene.

All John would need to do to change all of that would be to say he spotted something and have Mitch change his course even just a few degrees. There'd been multiple RPG launches, but it was the surprise of the first and a failure of their countermeasures that had caught them off guard and lost them the chance to out-fly their death. And that _didn't have to be_ \--

"But their sacrifice _is_ for the greater good, John," Chaya suddenly appeared before him in the glowing form she'd taken when they'd _shared_ with each other. Although the brightness that enfolded him wasn't as bad as what had happened when he touched the box, he still couldn't see anything of his surroundings other than her. He suspected he was no longer in Iraq.

So he was asleep -- or was in two places at once -- and either way he resented her interference.

"Do you get off on being witness to -- or instigating -- torture, Chaya? Or is there actually a purpose to your machinations?"

She frowned and looked sorrowful. A part of John wondered if that was because he wasn't acting happy to see her, since empathy had never been her strong-suit.

"I understand you're confused and maybe even angry, but --"

"Oh, I'm way beyond angry, Lady," John growled and moved to see if he could take a step back from her. He did, but still couldn't see anything of where he was, not even the ground beneath his feet. "Where and when you've dropped me off aside, you had no right to whisk me away in the first place without my consent. Would it have killed you to just explain what you planned? If you needed my help … Did I really give you the impression that I would ignore you if you contacted me again?"

"Doctor McKay would have ignored me. And done everything in his power to make you stay away if I had called."

With the arrival of petulance, she wasn't holding her glow either, and now Chaya simply looked a lot like his ex-wife. Still no visible landmarks to his surroundings; in a way he felt like he was in the middle of a cartoon, was Daffy Duck just waiting for Bugs Bunny/Chaya to draw in the background and add color -- or have the cigar blow up in his face.

"I bet you Rodney isn't ignoring you now," he couldn't keep from saying."

A palpable hit, although she still had a way to go to look as angry as he was feeling.

"He is on his way to Proculus now, and I will deal with him --"

Despite his better judgment, that got John moving back into her personal space. "You fucking hurt him -- you touch him in anyway, and whatever it is that you think you need from me, I assure you I will do the exact opposite, Chaya." He'd managed intimidating all on his own before Ronon, but might admit that he'd picked up a few pointers if ever asked.

She reached out then, her expression turning entreating, but John ducked away from her touch. That twist on his body let him know that wherever they were, his body thought it was there too.

_Ow_.

"I will not harm you or any of your people, John," Chaya again lifted her arm, but quickly let it drop when John back-peddled again. With a sigh, she dropped her eyes too. "Well, no more than I have already done by _whisking_ you away. We -- I -- mean only to help. To preserve what must happen and what may happen."

"To safeguard the future," he repeated Cooper's words.

She caught his eyes and gave him a sad smile as she nodded. "You know there are … rules that govern even _our_ behavior, that there are penalties and consequences for interfering."

"I know that there doesn't seem to be a single one of you willing to accept those consequences and still do the right thing," John scowled back. "If you haven't noticed, we're trying to survive several of the messes your people left behind. The Wraith, the Asurians and the Ori, to name just the ones we know about . And, yeah, we've botched it a bit ourselves, but considering our role models…" He narrowed his eyes. "I don't suppose this whole box/time-travel thing is your way of making up for it? That you're going to give me the address to say, Merlin's weapon or the Wraith home planet or a handful of ZPMs? Or let me change the future and save a lot of people?"

"The Wraith have no single home planet. They live in their great ships and lay claim to any planet they desire. And you already knew that, John," she admonished.

"Which is why you can be so free with the information," he sneered. "Actually, I only suspected, which isn't the same, and it's always nice to have confirmation." He gave her a mocking smile.

Her lips thin into another expression John recognized from long association, not only on his ex-wife's face, but on most of his COs, including Elizabeth's on more than one occasion. He let his smirk grow in return.

"Okay, so no Secrets of the Universe. You also seem ticked when I accused you of finding your jollies through torture," John mused. "I refuse to believe that you've done all of this just to take the opportunity for us to visit on another." Or to make Ancient babies, although John wasn't going to actually voice that thought and give her the idea or have her thinking he might be receptive.

"So what's going on, Chaya?" he prompted. "Tell me why I'm _not_ here to change history." Because it couldn't be that he got to save Mitch and Dex (and Mike). Life didn't work that way, at least not John Sheppard's.

At least her presence here confirmed he was supposed to be aware of where he was -- and when -- even if she wasn't going to give him any _useful_ information.

Chaya rocked back on her heels, her arms shifting to cross her chest in a mirror position of John's. "I am sorry, John, but as you have suspected in this, you are not here to save your friends' lives. You will need to let them be shot down, just as you will need to let your own vehicle… a copter?"

"Helicopter."

"Just as you need to let your own helicopter be shot down."

When she paused and looked unwilling to say anything more, John raised his brow. "Okay, so everything has to occur as it already happened? Then I guess we're back to the getting off on torture bit. Is this really just about being a woman spurned? I mean, if you and your friends want to play evil voyeur, all you have to do is check in on my dreams every few weeks and you'll see a replay of this next week and a whole lot more of its ilk. There is no need to make _me_ relive it in real time."

She sighed, not seeming angry at his belligerence anymore, but definitely sad. "That is not why we are here, John. If I could spare you this, I would." She reached out again and this time John let her touch, although he didn't unclench his own arms. She brushed the bruise on his face with gentle fingers then stepped away on her own at his flinch. She turned to the side so she wasn't looking his direction. "The reality of it is that the first time, _you_ did not survive the events that start here either," she said softly to the ground.

John was absolutely speechless. Of all of the things she could have said --

"As you are the key to reawakening Atlantis and hope in the Pegasus Galaxy, this must not happen." When she turned her head and lifted her chin, her expression was pure insecurity, not so much a dare for him to call her on it, but a twisted bid for sympathy as if she was the one going to be hurt most by this.

John chuffed out a laugh. _ Sorry, sweetheart, but Rodney does it better, and I have to_ care _to respond_.

"We may not be able to directly affect the events now on-going, but we can fix this." She sounded disappointed and hurt _and_ arrogant. "The you of four years ago was too angry and bitter at the loss of his friends. He did not have the maturity to know how far he could taunt his captors without them killing him."

John laughed a little harder. "Actually, the me of four years ago no doubt knew _exactly_ how far to go, Chaya. I expect I goaded them into killing me on purpose,l not out of grief. It's common practice for the insurgents in this area of our world to use one of us against the other in order to get information or access to something. By dying, I would have taken away their leverage over Holland. All I would have had to worry about was drawing it out long enough that Holland's rescue was likely."

Chaya looked shocked and, yeah, John guessed that type of warfare wasn't part of the Wraith handbook or the Asurians' -- although the Genii had their own variations. The Wraith were just collecting food for their larder when they didn't kill their prey outright, and the Asurian Replicators had the ability to get into anyone's mind and extract the information they needed. Come to think of it, the Wraith did that last bit too -- at least the Queens tried, but given John's experience in that position, he was pretty sure the Queens were usually looking as much for sport as information when they tried that.

John worked at blanking his smile since goading Chaya, conversely, was taking too much time and keeping her from her point.. "So you guys waited until you figured I was _mature_ enough to handle my captivity and switched me out with my younger self when the right confluence of environment and circumstances could make it basically untraceable." He shook his head in involuntary admiration. "So where is the other me during my time here? Back in Atlantis?"

Chaya looked uncomfortable, not angry exactly or sad now, but there was obviously some distress lining her face.

"Fuck. You ascended him, didn't you? That would certainly account for why my memories of my actual captivity back then are hazy -- well, that and your habit of returning people to their mortal existence without any memory or clothing. A kink, or are you just lazy?" He waved away her bristling. "Don't mind me; I'm just being an asshole. You said I died the first time, so of course I wouldn't have any memories of surviving. At least not until it happens this time. But I _do_ have some vague memory from back then, so this isn't a matter of you creating a new timeline like Janus did with Elizabeth. Is this the real reason why the Ancients never help out down here on the mortal plane anymore? You're spending all of your time just trying to figure out the temporal mechanics?"

For a second she looked amused, and even sympathetic to the headache this was inducing. God, but how he wished Rodney were here too and could explain it all in terms that made sense.

As if she picked up on his last thought, Chaya sobered and fell back into a thin-lipped frown. "Regardless of why you died the first time," she said in harsh tones, "that must change. You _have_ to survive, John Sheppard. Just as Elizabeth Weir needed to survive upon your first arrival in Atlantis. You must change the past in order to align with the future you think you're living in. The future in which Atlantis is awake and the Wraith are suffering from defeats that even we could not bring to them. Thanks to you and your people, the humans of Pegasus do have a chance to thrive and advance and that has ever been our purpose." Her smile was as false as her humanity.

"Indeed, my own sins have been forgiven so that I may be the one to aid you in this --"

"So the Angel got her wings, huh?" John snorted but then waved her off again, not having the patience to try and explain the Earth-centric reference. Or why she was making him angry all over again.

At the heart of it, it was all about her redemption, just as Janus' subterfuge with Elizabeth had been about his. Ancient mavericks who'd gone against the grain and been punished for it and doing their good deed so they could get into heaven. Yeah, John could appreciate the outcome, but just once it would be nice to be asked if they wanted to save the future instead of just being a chess piece in the hands of another player.

"Obviously this 'get out of jail free card' is a one time use, right?" John couldn't help but flashback on all of the other times he'd come so close to dying just since his arrival in the Pegasus Galaxy. Close, but he _had_ survived, so obviously the Ancients were okay with that shit happening, as long as the end result was his survival. There weren't exactly the '_it's the journey not the end_ type of people he guessed.

"Once you and I are done here, that's it, no more special attention?" he continued.

"You will always be special to me, John."

"Oh no, Chaya, don't feel guilty about cutting me loose," he shook his head and let a little of his anger resurface. "Trust me, it's not like I'm displeased that I won't be your rat in a maze any more." Maybe it was because the Ancients _were_ all about the end -- about whatever it took to gain ascension. Certainly Teer's people had forgotten how to live. If life was just a stepping stone to ascension, John supposed it would be hard for them to put any value on it.

Another hurt look, as well as displeasure (no doubt because he wasn't being properly grateful again).

"Let me explain it to you in simple words, Chaya. Whether I live or die is _my_ decision or a matter of circumstances or even just good or bad luck. You -- _none_ of you -- have the right to play God. If you want to help, then fucking help! Show up and stop the disaster from happening in the first place if we really are that pivotal to the future. Or live with us and let us learn from you if we're really that hopeless. But don't sit up there in your enlightened glowyness and play with us as if we're your fucking computer simulation!"

She stiffened. "We do not --"

"The hell you don't. What is all of this except you changing the parameters so that the outcome is one that you prefer?"

Her chin came up again. "You would rather die?"

John sighed. "Our Gods give us free will, Chaya."

She turned her head away.

He didn't really think he'd reached her, as she already made this choice before. Her good intentions had indeed save a civilization, but at the cost of destroying much of another one, and her hell had been ten thousand years of exile. John could actually understand her choice -- then and now. He wasn't even all that sure he would have done things too differently -- at least in the first instance. But he'd like to think he would do better at accepting the consequences and not be so desperate for redemption that he'd compound his sins. Redemption came from making choices, not from taking them away.

"We've already affected your timeline, John. This must play out."

"I agree, we can't just leave things in this limbo. So my question, Chaya, is do I have the right to die this time too? Or will you or someone else hit the restart one more time?"

Silence.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, you're in luck, I guess." John closed the distance between them and turned her to face him with gentler hands than he was feeling. "Because I _do_ have someone and something worth living for, I'll play your little game this time." He only just stopped himself from shaking her. She, in return, stared up at him with wide, wide eyes full of pain and regret.

"Once this is over, however, if your friends want you to work with the expedition again, you go to Elizabeth, not me." This time he did give her a little shake, but for emphasis, not out of the frustration and rage he was still feeling. "And you fucking _ask_ first if we want to be your toys. As far as you and me, we're even. I'm not your project any longer, not your secret boyfriend and no fucking way will I be your proxy again," he growled. "Maybe if the lot of you do decide to come down off your ascended asses and actually take some sort of responsibility for the shit you left behind, we'll listen. Probably even provide a little backup. But I assure you it won't be personal or out of any sort of gratitude. Just one life form helping out another to _do the right thing_."

Letting go of her before he did lose his tenuous control, John stepped back. "Now, I think it's time we said goodbye, Chaya. I've still got to figure out how I'm going to just sit by and watch two people who once meant everything to me die. Not to mention spend a little time preparing myself for getting the shit beaten out of me, plus having to watch yet another friend be tortured and, oh yeah, count the days until he dies too and I totally fuck up my career. Catching a couple of hours of sleep might be a good idea too; otherwise I might just fuck _every_thing up and die anyway, because I was too fatigued to do my job."

She nodded, still saying nothing and the next thing John knew was Mike leaning over him and shaking him awake to the sounds of morning over one of Iraq's largest airbases.

Showtime.

*******

After day three in captivity, John stopped trying to reconcile his memories to the first time this had happened. Oh, Dex and Mitch's deaths were a repeat of the nightmares that still plagued him upon occasion, only this time in full surround sound and hi def 3-D. But his own crash had blurred amidst a montage of all of his crashes; most especially the one he'd undergone just a week ago in real time in an alien space shuttle. Of the captivity and torture itself, there wasn't even a hint of _déjà vu_, leaving him to believe that his past self was hanging out with Chaya even if she'd never actually answered his accusations. His ability to distance himself and compartmentalize what happened just wasn't this good.

The funny thing was, as physically bad as he felt right now (trembling under Mike's own jittery touch), this was no where near as painful as having the life sucked out of him by a Wraith, or having his mind ripped open by the Asurians. In fact, as far as bad guys went, these guys weren't even as creative or ruthless as Koyla's goons. If John was still focusing correctly (admittedly shaky at best), they'd been caught by kids playing at terrorists and rebels, with the oldest one maybe Keras' age and the rest of them between the ages of thirteen and sixteen.

This was not to say that they weren't enthusiastic in their attentions. But they also weren't very knowledgeable or all that strong. In their desire to draw out their fun as long as possible, they hadn't really done much damage yet, for fear John supposed, of going too far. His swollen and pretty much useless eye wasn't even their fault; he'd cracked the cheekbone before he'd even left Atlantis and the copter crash had added a moderate concussion and inconvenient further swelling across the side of his face. They did like prodding him there, though, and were doing a good job at keeping everything swollen and enflamed.

It was the same with his broken collarbone, courtesy of his seat wrenching free and slamming him into the side of the cockpit on impact. The dislocated shoulder to go with it, conversely, was all his captors' doing and he wasn't sure there might not be some permanent nerve damage to come out of this, since every time Mike helped him pop it back in, they forced it right back out a few hours later. It wasn't his gun arm, thankfully, and so while flying either choppers or planes might prove a little painful in his future, it wasn't as if a little less mobility would affect his interface with the puddle jumpers or actually ground him. Of course, the broken fingers on his gun hand might provide their own difficulties when all was said and done -- or their broken wrist. But the kids hadn't actually started _smashing_ anything yet, so it should all be things that Carson could fix.

Mike was in about the same shape, having sustained a broken leg in the crash and his own mild concussion. He'd also played punching bag for a couple of the older kids and had some cracked ribs. As best as either he or John could tell, however, nothing there had yet broken, and so they didn't have to worry about the punctured lung part of the program until the next interrogation session.

Actually, the worst part for both of them so far was the sun and heat. They were both suffering from serious sunburn and severe dehydration as they were only being given water a couple of times a day, and both days previous the boys had dragged them out into the open for a couple of hours of roasting time under a noon sun when it was their captors' time to get some sleep.

Food, like the water, was scarce and of poor quality, was barely enough to sustain them yet a luxury nonetheless. John had no doubt his captors would begin scaling back on both in the next day or so. It appeared that they had finally reached their destination or at least a stopping point for a couple of days. Over the past two nights they'd been forced to walk (while the boys pushed and hurried them from horse- and mule-back), as soon as the sun went down, all through the night and well into mid morning.

Today, they'd been dragged into a small cave after their tanning session, instead, and then more or less abandoned now for hours. Whatever this stop might bring, John was damn grateful for the respite (along with the opportunity for real sleep); he'd been responsible for keeping Mike on his feet during their marches and, as Mike had probably fifty pounds on John (at least when they'd started), John was beyond fucking tired.

His argument with Chaya aside, John could admit that it did help that he was pretty sure this was the same cave he and Mike had been rescued from the first time, in what should be only a few more hours from what he remembered reading in the AARs their rescuers had filed. While he couldn't say for certain that some things might not have changed in this replaying of his past, he was fairly certain that Chaya wasn't wholesale changing things -- or trying to get back at him for his lack of faith.

The after action reports had stated that he and Mike had been found late morning on the fourth day they'd been missing (somehow back in Iraq instead of Syria), and just as the cutting had begun. So only a little more they'd have to endure before John could go home. Assuming the two timelines would be resolved with his rescue and not that he had most of another year to stay in the past until he was posted to Atlantis. God, he really hoped his recovery would be in the hands of people who really cared for him instead of those who saw him strictly as another asset they needed restore just well enough to get him back on the front lines.

John rather thought he'd even talk to Kate Heightmeyer this time around, instead of playing the typical games with his shrinks and just saying what they wanted to hear in order to escape their clutches in the quickest time possible. He _still_ had a lot of unresolved anger stemming from this time of his life without the added intervention by the Ancients and its replay. Nor could he afford a repeat of the banked rage that had erupted when Mike had gone down a second time. If he got kicked out of Atlantis (again) and this time by his own people…

John truly didn't know if even Rodney was enough, that he could come back from _that_.

Around two in the morning, their respite and abandonment ended. Although it wasn't the leader of the rag-tag band of would be terrorists who woke them up by stumbling in. John's sense of danger kicked in before he could smell the fumes of hard liquor on the boy's breath. He nudged Mike and together they managed to pull themselves upright into a sitting position, leaning as much against each other as they were the wall of the cave. In the debrief the first time, John hadn't been lucid enough to remember the cutting part and so while it had obviously been bad, he'd only had the medics and doctor reports to fill in the details.

They had not mentioned a fourteen year old kid trying to prove his fearlessness and efforts to get accepted into the gang.

If John had been looking for a chance to sacrifice himself to keep Mike alive, this would be the perfect time, since the kid was looking as scared as John was feeling. He'd had a couple of lesser opportunities already, but he would have been looking to give their rescuers time to find Mike, and the kids hadn't really started in on heavy interrogations, so he hadn't really had the need yet.

Yet just might be now, though.

If the ordeal now facing them was just to draw blood and a few screams, they'd probably be dealing with numerous shallow cuts, one or two more serious ones (theoretically in places that weren't life threatening) and maybe a puncture wound or something like a toe or finger being cut off.

If the kid, instead, had been charged with finally obtaining information in addition to proving his manhood, they were in some deep shit. It was all too easy to misjudge the depth of a cut even if you were used to doing this. Amateurs also almost always went for the biggest bang: slicing eyes or genitalia since that produced the quickest results in the quickest amount of time. Wrists, neck or tendons would be the targets of choice if he wanted an impressive amount of blood and screaming along with his results, but wanted to take his time.

Nothing to the point of mutilation or severe blood loss had happened the first time, but John wasn't sure how much he could count on that when facing a knife as big as any that Ronon carried in the hands of someone a third of Ronon's size. If he went with Chaya's logic, he and Mike not only would survive this encounter, both would also be in good enough shape to resume active duty in a couple months time. Otherwise, Mike wouldn't have the opportunity to be shot down again, and John wouldn't defy orders trying to rescue him and be sent to Antarctica to then discover he had the ATA gene.

If either of them were injured more severely this time, the whole timing of the dominos would be off. Same as if Mike didn't survive since Mitch and Dex were already dead.

While John firmly believed in the credo of not leaving a man behind and would have fought to rescue anyone in the same circumstances, _because_ it had been Mike that first time, he'd not just disobeyed and flown outside of his operation orders, he'd also very publicly told the JTAC and his CO (not to mention the Generals present at his later debriefing), exactly what he'd thought of their willingness to accept casualties of men over the loss of additional equipment. John had _earned_ his Article 15 hearing and his reassignment to Antarctica because it had been Mike.

So, for Chaya's plan to work, he could count on no missing parts and nothing deep enough to take away his wings. And if he wasn't going to cooperate, something bad enough that he'd died from it.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

*********

Rodney had talked Elizabeth out of canceling her Six-Days-of-We-Can't-Call-It-Christmas Celebration. Even with John missing, there were still plenty of reasons to take this time to decompress, and it wasn't as if John was dead -- or so Rodney kept reminding himself. He'd even managed to convince Carson's nurse (whatever her name had been), to go through with the Escort Auction since there were plenty of people to still humiliate despite John's absence when she'd suggested canceling it anyway.

He'd also gone ahead with his program based on personality profiling to match giver and recipients for the gift exchange instead of something truly random. And while there had been a couple of disgruntled or embarrassed participants complaining and acting out, they had come from the new arrivals and, frankly, everybody ignored them until they agreed to a second tour anyway. His attempt to embarrass and get a little payback against Kate hadn't been particularly successful, but he'd lost his audience of course, as well as most of his desire to punish her over how she'd badgered him after his near ascension since she'd been the one _this_ time telling Elizabeth to back off about John or Chaya.

He'd overseen sending the databurst that was ninety percent frivolous and had no doubt sent the Mountain's accountants into fits of apoplexy, as everyone seemed to have decided that money was no object to securing the perfect gift and it was up to the SGC's beancounters to take care of it. But Rodney had left it to Kate to coordinate the actual distribution of those goods brought over by intergalactic bridge shuttles, the first of which had come through within an hour of the _Daedalus_' arrival. She'd not only had the cartfuls of pre-wrapped gifts in all shapes and sizes to contend with, but Elizabeth had also left her to deal with the cargo containers full of decorations and food and gifts' common to the expedition as a whole (that apparently had been justified as necessary contributions to the well-being of their members). Rodney had allowed himself to be dragged over by Zelenka to lurk and see just what they'd scored for the science labs.

Few of the items were more than the type of things normally found in well equipped military bases (or at Area 51 for the scientists). Ping pong, pool, air hockey and foosball tables, plus a plethora of sports and physical training equipment that John was really going to be a kid about once he returned. Surprisingly, Rodney had also spotted at least two decent telescopes being unpacked, along with six new video game systems (and wall-mounted LCD flat-screens to go with them), a fully loaded cd juke box, and three honest-to-god arcade style pinball machines, including an original _Addams Family_ game just like the one no one had been able to beat Rodney's high score on back in Area 51.

Finding places to house all of the new entertainment and then trying them out (and even Rodney had participated here to the point of forbidding certain items from being allowed near the labs and demanding certain others), had filled the next day. The one following was the official start of the celebration and day four of John's disappearance.

The recital had been scheduled first. He'd gone with Elizabeth, Radek and Ronon, although Elizabeth had gotten up and moved to a seat much further away after his critique of the first piece. Radek and Ronon were willing listeners to his brilliant discourse on the startling lack of talent on the part of the musicians, but they didn't understand most of his source material (not as John would have), and Rodney had found it hard to stay seated himself.

He knew he was a snob when it came to any form of music; that was part of the fun when he and John had the opportunity to fight over whose MP3 player got preference. And certainly it would have been more enjoyable for _every_one had they'd let the choir sing a cappella -- and if they had let Teyla perform more solos. At least it had been nice that Carson didn't botch things any worse than any of the others, and that he actually had a pleasant if untrained singing voice.

The play on the second night was better; not only were Ronon and Radek keeping him company but Carson, Cadman and Teyla had come to sit with him too. So he had a larger audience with which to share and appreciate his pithy comments, and at least Cadman seemed to get most of his references. Elizabeth's performance had been absolutely awful, with Jinto having to feed her lines from behind the curtain. But she'd also been laughing right along with everyone else when she'd stumbled and ended up on her ass when she'd come out to take her bows, and Jinto was already being touted as a master of irony as well as a great director. Caldwell, of all people, had also had the wherewithal to make sure the performance had been taped for repeated viewing. So while John had missed the extended commentary, he would be able to see Elizabeth's debut as a more Drag than Wraith Queen. Eventually.

The trouble was that eventually was taking too damn long. Chaya had never come right out and said what the Ancients had tasked John with doing. But she had implied it wouldn't be months or even multiple weeks before he would be returned to them, which had led Rodney to optimistically hope would mean only a few days. Few as in three or four. It was now the seventh day, and they'd finished the Great Feast and the Non-Denominational, Gender-Neutral People in Red Suits handing out gifts and candy to the Athosian kids yesterday and that last event was the one, probably even more than the roostball games, that John was going to regret having missed.

All of the children had missed John too, since he was all too much one of them any time he visited. More than a few assumed the Wraith and the worst, but fortunately Teyla had been on hand to explain that he was merely on a mission and that he missed them and was sorry to have missed this. Jinto, Wex and a couple of the other older kids didn't look as if they bought her excuses, but they managed to put on a better face for the younger ones than Rodney had.

Today had been December 25th -- Christmas -- and the debut of the Auction and the "Grownups Gift Exchange". Hermiod had shown an amazing amount of compassion by giving John's gift over to Rodney before everyone had gathered in the mess hall to watch and participate in the festivities, and so no one had had to deal with seeing one package sitting there unclaimed. Just as Rodney had taken care of getting a gift for John's recipient so no one would feel left out. (Kavanaugh, and Rodney had been so tempted to get him something painfully embarrassing, but because it had been in John's name and because Kavanaugh had already made a somewhat friendly overture, Rodney had ordered Kavanaugh a set of golf clubs so that John would have someone he could beat once the course on the Mainland got finished).

Rodney still hadn't figured out what in the compatibility profiles would have matched those two, however.

Hermiod had also worn the pointed shoes, belled cap and brightly colored kiltlike thing someone (most likely Novak) had given him for the occasion, and seeing Hermiod actually wearing clothes had almost undone Rodney for the unfairness of it all to John missing it. Rodney rather expected John would later just assume that Rodney had photoshopped the ensemble (which he totally could), and not believe that their little grey alien had put on a pair of pants -- or the freaky alien equivalent.

Other highlights had included Caldwell being the one who had drawn Teyla's name, and seeing her opened up a small Tiffany's box that had contained a stunningly accurate reproduction of the necklace that Teyla's father had long ago given her and then had needed be destroyed when they'd discovered the necklace housed a Wraith transmitter. While Rodney had known that Caldwell would have read every line of every report filed their first year in his preparation of taking over Atlantis' Military Command, his gift selection showed a sensitivity and understanding of life here that he basically had never shown previously.

Elizabeth had drawn Ronon's name, and hadn't that caused a round of blushing and ducked heads from the both of them. Her gift had been just as surprising and insightful as Caldwell's: twelve of Earth's most influential books. Few people (including Rodney) remembered that Ronon came from a world and society as technologically advanced as the First-World countries on Earth. That he'd been a educated man as well as a soldier before losing everything and being forced to _run_ for seven years as some sort of Wraith cat toy. Rodney _had_ known that Elizabeth had been instrumental in teaching Ronon the written form of English, but hadn't realized the depth of Ronon's abilities and comprehension would enable him to understand books like the _I-Ching_, the _Iliad_, Plato's _The Republic_, Shakespeare's _First Folio_, _Don Quixote_ or Betty Friedan's _The Feminine Mystique_. At the look of Ronon's sheer delight when he began opening his gift, Rodney wasn't the only one feeling a little misty-eyed.

Other things like Radek's first edition book of Czech poetry (untranslated) for Elizabeth, or Carson getting all blubbery when he received a flash drive of video greetings from all of the members of his family from Kate, kept the saccharin sentimentality factor riding high. As did Teyla's spectacularly hand-decorated set of bantos sticks for one of the more intelligent marines she'd been training and Carson's hand-woven quilt for Simpson. Even Kavanaugh's offer to switch his leave time to Biro (he was scheduled for _Daedalus_' return trip) as Biro's sister-in-law had just had a baby, was deemed thoughtful and poignant and not at all like the selfish bastard Kavanaugh didn't have to work at to portray.

Fortunately more of the gifts were like Chuck's _The Young Ones_ dvd collection, along with the complete _French and Saunders_ for Radek; Ronon wrapping up his favorite knife for Cadman; and Katie and Parrish both getting each other's names -- and getting each other the exact same 3-drawer leaf cabinet and laminated blank cards. Then there was Lorne's gift from Miko, a restored Atari 2600 game console and _twelve working games_ including _Joust_ and _Missile Command_. Lorne's popularity and trade value was going to go through the roof -- as was Miko's for being the one who'd restored the classic game system and joysticks.

Rodney's own gift recipient was Caldwell, and hadn't that been a kick. He'd debated giving the Colonel an illustrated _Kama Sutra_ with the admonishment to learn how to bend a little, but was afraid that Caldwell would read too much into it and clue in on Rodney and John's own sexual experimentations. Instead he settled on three Genuine Turkish Bathrobes and deerskin slippers for on board, Earth and Atlantis use from the Hammacher Schlemmer catalog. It was always too damn cold on the _Daedalus_. And, since the man practically lived in his Air Force sweaters when he was visiting (but not when playing at being Atlantis' military commander), Rodney figured the warmth and comfort would be appreciated.

If Caldwell's genuine sounding thanks were real, then Rodney had been proven right once again.

Because he hadn't scammed his program other than to set the parameter that he and John could not end up each other's 'Santa' and that Hermiod had gotten John's name -- and because he hadn't changed anything after John's disappearance or cheated to see who had drawn his own -- Rodney was actually a little surprised when he received his package from Lieutenant Lindsey Novak, _Daedalus_' chief engineer. He'd actually been expected for someone like Katie or even Cadman to have drawn his name, since his questionnaire hadn't been all that hard to subvert if someone decided to rig their answers. (The fact that everyone seemed to have played it straight was still mind boggling to him.)

He had no idea how she'd managed to arrange it -- didn't realize that Novak actually knew General O'Neill beyond the former leader of SG1's reputation -- but somehow she'd finagled O'Neill's permission to allow Rodney to spend his next leave at the General's cabin in Minnesota. On the one hand, cabins meant woods and intermittent power and no internet, and Minnesota was much too far North since his next leave was scheduled for February.

On the other hand, John would no doubt love it (they were scheduled to have the same time off finally), and it would be a chance for the two of them to be able to hide some place quiet for the first few days if nothing more. Any trip back to Earth was exceedingly stressful (not just because of the mind-numbingly boring or accusatory briefings), but because of the sheer number of people and bombastic environment around them that was so the antithesis to what they'd grown accustom to on Atlantis and the various Pegasus Galaxy worlds. If ever Rodney needed a vacation from his vacation, it was always when he returned from Earth.

So, he'd thanked her warmly -- even if he was sure O'Neill's acquiescence had to mean it was some kind of joke (and that the joke would be on Rodney). He even managed to stay for a few more hours throughout the socializing that followed, longer certainly than he knew Elizabeth had been expecting of him. His staying had little to do with any sort of Christmas cheer, however.

Even though he and John maintained separate quarters for both propriety and the occasional sanity vacation from one another, they spent a large amount of their off-time with one another so going back to an empty room to continue to stew and brood wasn't something Rodney had been ready to face. It didn't help that in his heart of hearts Rodney had actually been hoping for a different gift; that he'd attributed a bit of a romantic nature and a sense of fair play to the Ancients even when he knew intellectually that they understood nothing of the sort.

To have John return during the gift exchange would have been cliché even for Hollywood, but that had still been what a part of him had been expecting and the sting of betrayal and disappointment when it had not come to pass was just awful. Going by the looks on Teyla, Carson and Elizabeth's faces (to name just a few) when they said goodnight to him, Rodney suspected he hadn't been the only one with such a wish.

His room was every bit as depressing as he expected; he really should have moved the obvious surfboard from Hermiod for John into John's own room instead of leaving it there to absolutely shout out John's absence. A trip to the bathroom for a shower got rid of the glitter and lipstick and leftover glue from overenthusiastic bow festooners that had ended up on his face, but did little to stave off the unease and exhaustion Rodney had now been courting for seven days. That he had overeaten didn't help, although the excessive sugar he'd consumed in the form of cookies and peppermint and even ice cream should have offset his weariness with the resultant sugar high. Instead it was like he was already experiencing the crash, and maybe he was since it was actually after midnight -- several hours later than he'd thought.

He would fill guilty for forgetting himself for a few hours and actually almost enjoying himself, but John would have been the first to push him to go had they been able to communicate. It also wasn't as if his own absence on top of John's wouldn't have affected the others so, again, he should be feeling guilt-free, as he'd just done his duty.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

*********

The last person Rodney expected to be awakening him at … 4 am on the day after Christmas was Doctor Keller. Rodney had grabbed up his own Turkish robe (of course he'd ordered a set for himself and John when he'd ordered Caldwell's) before answering the door. He was perfectly ready to castigate Carson or Cadman for going all Marley on him even if they would only be trying to cheer him up, but his diatribe died in his throat to see Carson's newest assistant standing there instead.

"What… Who…?" Except if it had been an emergency, he would have been contact by radio and also by Carson (or Elizabeth or Lorne). So he just stood there, blinking owlishly and off-handedly noting that she was rather cute for not being blonde…

Or male.

"Carson didn't want to scare you with the radio," she began, her voice breathless, but whether it was because she'd run all the way from the transporter or because she always talked that way Rodney didn't have enough previous interaction with her to know.

"And," he promptly crossly when she hesitated.

In the next instant she looked so far away from guilty or intimidated or even fearful, that a grin began threatening to overtake Rodney's face too. And then she nodded, although Rodney hadn't been able to ask.

"You have got to be shitting me," he finally got out, angry at the absolute inconvenience of timing on the Ancient's part, but just so fucking happy anyway. John was home.

He didn't wait for any additional confirmation before he was striding from his quarters. He wouldn't run, because that meant an entirely different thing on Atlantis when it was oh dark thirty, and the Marines on patrol wouldn't appreciate the unnecessary adrenalin rush. But he wasn't slowing his step for someone Katie and Cadman's size to be able to keep up with him.

"He's pretty banged up, with extensive bruising, some nasty cuts and even a couple of broken bones," she sounded apologetic as she had to jog a little. Which was also not running.

"But he's also mending as if the injuries happened several weeks ago. Carson's checking him over, of course, and will keep him in the infirmary until he regains consciousness, but he's also expecting to be able to release him to you and your team if not later today, at least in time for the roostball game tomorrow."

It didn't' look like Keller was going to be able to manage the distance doctors were supposed to maintain from their patients any better than Carson had, but Rodney wouldn't say that that was a bad thing. It wasn't as mandatory that everyone get along now that they had a migratory population and the opportunity to return to Earth, but certain bonds had been and would continue to be formed, and it was easier to do whatever was necessary for people you liked instead of just because it was the right thing to do.

The two of them moved the rest of the way from corridor to transporter to corridor in silence. He had questions, of course, but he doubted Keller could answer the bulk of them, and he'd find his own answers to the important ones in just another couple of minutes. Without having to give himself away.

Rodney's steps quickened when the infirmary came into sight -- and Keller's slowed. Compassion and empathy were great traits for voodoo practitioners -- he might even remember to thank her one of these days.

Carson was just coming out from behind the curtain he'd drawn around one of the beds as Rodney entered, the nurse who'd been in charge of the auction on his heels with an overflowing cart. Rodney couldn't help but to glance over at the cart first. But when he saw few of the nightmarish tools of Carson's trade scattered there and bloodied, saw mainly diagnostic tech along with couple of dirty bandages, a syringe and a multiple bottles of meds, he let go of the breath he'd unconsciously held and met their own widely grinning faces with his own.

"I'll have to let Elizabeth, Colonel Caldwell and Major Lorne know right away, of course, but I will also request that they stay away until after breakfast," Carson offered. "And I figured I'll leave it up to you as to when you notify Teyla and Ronon and Radek. You can have the rest of the night to yourself, or let the team in as you deem necessary. Jennifer's the doctor on call for the rest of this shift," with a nod to Keller as she finally caught up to them, "and she knows not to let in anyone you haven't vetted."

"If you allow me to videotape the Colonel resting in his bed, we can let the rest of our people can see that he's back when they awaken in the morning," she suggested with a bright smile.

Nodding slowly, Rodney thought it all sounded okay, but he wasn't really paying attention.

"We'll wait until you've had a few minutes alone with him first," Keller continued, and gave him a little push when he just stood there unmoving.

"It's real, Rodney. He's back and maybe a little worse for the wear, but with nothing that we can't fix over time. Go to him," Carson pushed him a little more forcefully.

Rodney took a stumbling first step and then found his balance, although he still felt as if he were moving underwater again. All this time he had hoped, but now he could admit, if only to himself, that he hadn't really _believed_. The Ancients had fucked with so many things, had failed so many times that he'd never lost the underlying fear that this would be just one more disaster even if they had truly meant to keep their promise. God had no more existed in Rodney's world than Santa Claus (determined at ages four and nine respectively), but for a moment he could hold onto having received a true Christmas miracle.

The moment didn't pass upon seeing John, even with -- no especially with -- his left arm bound tightly against his chest (which was also wrapped), and his right hand fingers and wrist cast and splinted. Rodney had no doubt there were more bandages wrapped around things below the blanket that had been drawn up to John's waist, and the sheer number of bruises and cuts he could see would make him weep, except that the bruising was already shading into the yellows and tans of mostly gone, and the cuts were all closed (and without stitches), with most of them likely not leaving a scar. The standard IV, nasal cannula and pulse oximeter were present as was, no doubt, a catheter, but that was all that Rodney could see, and any of it could be more for the ease of the doctors than from the needs of the patient.

He took the seat Carson had already made available and put his hand on top John's right forearm since both of John's hands were out of commission. At his touch John stirred and blinked open his eyes although they didn't widen more than a slit --no more than he needed to see who was there with him. The smile Rodney got for being recognized was yet another miracle, as was John's ability to drop right back to sleep now that he knew that he was home.

"Thank you, Chaya," Rodney said quietly into the air, not wanting to reawaken John, and not wanting to be overheard.

_Saint Nik'las was one of us_, he heard only in his mind, along with a peal of light laughter. _Merry Christmas, Rodney._

\-- finis --

And Merry Christmas, Ladyra and all my other readers.


End file.
